I woke up as a chipmunk this morning.
on the plus side, my diet is butterscotch pudding and soup and vicodin.
I have never been a recreational drug user and this is far from recreational [if i don't take it my mouth feels as though someone punched it] but I will say I had one of the most interesting dreams I've ever had last night. It was as though I stepped into an impressionist painting. I was laying in a field, and looking up at a painted sky with such concentration. the field stained my clothes with multicolored paints or dye, or whatever it was. the paint on my clothes made me feel more satisfaction then I've felt in a long time. because the best part of it all was I felt. I haven't been able to clear my thoughts here but for some reason it was clear there. I could sort out particular feelings for recent developments. It was nice having a place that was just mine.
none of this makes sense I bet.
then again,
I'm still on vicodin and I've gained at least five pounds of weight in my face from the swelling.
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