Daydream

Mood: melancholic. a bit jaded. a bit confused. I KNOW. It's the usual. No big.
Currently listening to: Mistakes we knew we were making, MAE.

I think i need a new muse. No, damn it. Not M-U-S-E, as in an escort's partner, but rather a muse like the Greeks had. I dunno. I just feel so worn out, it's not even funny. Crap.

Just this morning, i felt the vestiges of a reverie creeping into my consciousness. Usually, I'd love falling into one, but i fought back and tried to stick with the track playing in my head. Fuck it, focus. I began humming the intro to MAE's tisbury lane. "She greets the day with her wet..."

Futility. It's when you fight back against a daydream that you saw coming. I slide back into my FX seat and let the visions wash over me.

I guess the neat thing about daydreams is that they actually occur inside your head. If, by some supercalifragilisic force of nature, daydreams suddenly come true, then i swear, i wouldn't be here right now. I would be in a coffin, getting mourned upon.

Yep, i was daydreaming about fucking DYING, and i was ENJOYING it.

In my daydream, the fx driver suddenly turned manic and crashed the into a wall that was suddenly there. I was squished, like a pancake, between seats and my head hit something hard. Blinking the blood off my eyes, i saw a garbage truck careening toward us with a force so great, the truck driver looked like he was ready to shit his pants.

Which i'm sure he did, as the truck's full body mass hit out little FX. I imagined my eyes popping, due to the sheer force, out of my head. The bodies jostled everywhere, blood colored the seats red.

Then i snapped out of it.

And i enjoyed it. I enjoyed dreaming about my death. Fuck.

I think i'm sick. Good thing i took up psych, eh? ROFL.