Dream--

house with natalie portman's apartment through my bedroom closet (tight squeeze), devendra banhart lying on her couch, the dining room table and chairs outside on the lawn, rachel howard sitting on them, waterfall and forest in the back yard.

I can't help but wonder what dreams really mean. Is it our belief in a deeper meaning that gives them their ominous, all-knowing qualities, or are they just senseless connections our bored brain strings together while we're sleeping because it needs something to do? Are they brand new, possibly symbolic images, or just recycled from our daily lives, jumbled together and presented behind our eyes? Dreams are so personal-- it's a rare occasion when two or more people have the same dream, and even then, they are unique to the dreamer because of the experience. But the ultimate manifestation of their intimacy, I think, is the fact that they are so fleeting; often, the more you try to write the dream or tell someone about it, the more quickly it slips away. Even if you get the gist of the dream told, there are minute details and certain ways things looked in your mind that are completely incommunicable, and probably lost forever inside your head.