Two glowing heads, going into the light together


I had another dream. This one was more random than disturbing, but confusing all the same.

I’m in the hallways of my old school, watching a boy that’s at the end of it. The hallways look like they are stretched into an infinity, and though I see the boy, the only thing I can decipher from the distance is that he has black hair and pale skin. Despite this, it’s apparent that I know who he is. Suddenly, although I skipped the actual lesson part, school’s finished and I’m sitting outside the classroom, wondering what the black-haired boy is up to. I see him standing with some other boys, which surprises me. For some reason I know that he doesn’t usually hang out with them. One moment, I’m looking at him from afar, and the next, I’m standing on a mountain with my friend, looking down at what appears to be our school yard. We’re looking down at a huge sandbox, where Courage the Cowardly Dog is being harassed by some shady looking boys. The boys leave and Courage switches shape, as he often does, to fill out the entire sandbox. He looks up at us and says: “I need your help”. I’m confused, but my friend has a plan. We go to the school café and, apparently, my task is to get four cups of hot cocoa. We don’t have much time, so as I’m fixing the drinks, my hands are shaking with the adrenaline. I try to balance the cups and rush to the exit, but I don’t get very far. The hot cocoa goes up in the ait as I trip and hit the floor with a loud thud. Everyone in the café starts laughing at me, and I notice that the black-haired boy, whose identity is still unknown, is there as well. For some reason, this makes me feel particularly glum. I’m sitting on the floor, feeling mortified, and when a girl, from the grade below mine, makes a snide remark, rage colors my vision red. I start shouting at her, calling her a “filthy brat” and a “five-year-old slag”. Harsh words, I know, but it was…dream-me, and not reality-me. Ahem. So, she looks at me with a horrified expression, tells me my head is glowing, and scurries off. I just sit there for a while, puzzled by her comment and in a daze from my sudden outburst. Then, the  black-haired boy approaches me. His head is glowing too. He helps me up, and together we walk towards the exit of the café. He opens the door and the outside is just an incredibly bright light. Just as we’re about to enter it…I wake up.

I don’t really know what to make of it. I have so many questions: Who was the boy? Why was my head glowing? Did I die at the end? Why did Courage need help? Actually, the question should be: What was Courage the Cowardly Dog doing in my school in the first place? Oh, and the most important question: What was the plan that included four cups of hot cocoa? So many questions, yet not one with a reasonable answer.

Love & cartoons

Good thieves of burning cars encircle poisoned rivers, minds and hearts

Tune of the day, because it feels like it would suit rebel angels of this time. Perhaps this would be the soundtrack to one of their particularly mischievous acts, taken place during the darkest of hours with only the moon as a witness. Adrenaline rushing, the rush of doing something forbidden. Taking the night. Not a sound being heard apart from this song. This song and their illy suppressed giggles. The sound of liberated youth.

You start on the edge and you end on your own…

Corsets and magic


I’m currently reading one of the best series I’ve ever encountered, and felt like I had to mention it here, for the sake of humanity. What is the name of this, seemingly brilliant, series, you ask? Answer: The Gemma Doyle Trilogy. This might not tell you much about the story, but let me tell you – it’s of epic proportions. The book is about Gemma Doyle, a redheaded english girl who lives in India, that is forced to move to England and attend Spence Academy, a boarding school for girls, when she witnesses her mother face a horrible, yet mysterious, death. Although Gemma is devastated over her dear mother’s death, moving to England is what she has always wanted. At Spence, Gemma meets a couple of very interesting girls, Penelope, Ann and Felicity, who she later comes to form strong friendships with. This would be the life Gemma always dreamt of, if it weren’t for the strange things that are in the way. After her mother’s death, Gemma starts having visions, these suggest that the incident wasn’t of the conventional kind. Together with her friends, Gemma eventually finds out that her mother was a part of the Order, a group of women who preformed magic and manage the Realm, a secret world full of creatures that you’d normally only encounter in fairy-tales and possibilities you wouldn’t imagine. They also find out that Circe, a member of the order who’s gone bad, is trying to take over the world. and it’s the girls’ job to stop her. As if this wasn’t enough, Gemma finds out that it’s actually she who holds the power to the magic. The fate of mankind is essentially in the hands of her.

The books are called A Great and Terrible Beauty, Rebel Angels, and The Sweet Far Thing, and are written by Libba Bray. I absolutely adore them, partly because they’re beautifully written, but mainly because they contain all of the themes I treasure in fiction: Secret societies, unrequited love,  fantasy, magic, friendship, drama, adventure, alternate worlds and many more things…oh and one more thing, it takes place during the late nineteenth century. Yep, you heard right, it’s fantasy mixed with corsets and courting. This could easily turn into a mess, but if executed in the right way, it could be genius…which is exactly what these books are. Genius. I love it.

Love & emeralds

You don’t move slow, taking steps in my directions…

I had a strange dream this morning. You know when you wake up ridiculously early because it’s so hot, then you fall asleep again and have a long, elaborate dream? Yeah, that was what happened to me today.

The dream begins with me falling, actually, I’m being dropped into my biology classroom. I fall into my seat and look around, disoriented, only to notice that this isn’t my ordinary classroom. Well it is, but everything is different. All the colors are in a blue tone, as if my eyes has a teal screen that tints my sight. I notice that something’s off with the teacher, who’s scribbling some unknown signs on the blueish gray chalkboard (as opposed to the regular green chalkboard). It’s like the teacher’s facial features have been dragged out, giving him a very disturbing appearance. An unsettling feeling grows in my gut, and I desperately try to reach out to my classmates, warning them that something isn’t right. Turns out, the difference extends to them as well.They all appear to loathe me. As I’m being given glares and the silent treatment, I suddenly think: “whatever.” and take a seat alone in the back of the class. I just sit there for a while, until the answer comes to me: “Wait a minute…is this a dream? It has to be a dream! Okay then.” I guess this is where I decide to just go along with it. Suddenly, the whole class is in this huge, mirrored hall where we have flying lessons. Yes, you read right, apparently we can fly in this dream. Well, dream me doesn’t know this either, but it seems as the rest of the class does. So everyone has mastered the art of flying except me. Yay. I am taught that I’m supposed to do a dainty jump and then just soar gracefully through the air, so I do that for a while, looking like a pseudo ballerina. After class, I’m wandering around some unknown area and I decide that I need to practice my flying skills. I just randomly go to a park full of cherry blossoms. I’m just jump-soaring all over the place, when I see Phreckles standing there. He tells me I kinda suck, but that I’ll get the hang of it soon enough. He also tells me that he’s here for me if I ever need any help. He gives me this huge, old book that’s bound in brown leather, tells me that I’ll “find what I need” there, and then disappears. Just as I’m about to open the book…I wake up.

Strange dream indeed.

…The sound resounds, echo. Does it lessen your affection? No.

Love & alabaster skin


So we’re bound to linger on, we drink the fatal drop…

Some days you feel transparent. Invisible. Like you try to get through to people, but not only do they not listen, they don’t even acknowledge your presence. You scream for attention, but people just look through you, to their reflection in the mirror. Enchanted by what they see, unknowing of what you see. Unknowing of the fact that you see. That you’re standing there, trying to get through to them. Sometimes you feel like you’d do anything to be noticed, but that it would be of no use. Your attempts would be futile. Some days the feeling of hope is particularly small. You feel it shrinking, struggling. But it never vanishes completely. It’s always there. The hope that someone will actually see you. Other days, it’s the opposite. You feel looks burning you from every direction. They leave marks. You know that they are permanent. Ugly scars that will burden you in the future. You would give anything to not be seen, to just blend in with the scenery. You just want to feel the relief of not having someone scrutinizing every move you make. You want to be able to just breathe without having to think about the responsibilities you have in life. You want a second to stop and think, to clear your head. You want a moment of peace. Even if that moment is fleeting. Invisibility can cause misery, and it can give solace.

I’m naked. I’m numb. I’m stupid. I’m staying.