Dream Journal 22-10-17 | Honest To Blog #4

I am with a relatively new partner, who is a stranger to the odd behaviours and occurances that come alongside dating a writer. One thing that particularly shocks him, is my dreams. So every time I have a strange dream, I tell him about it. 

Here is the text that I sent him today: 

My dream today was that a chemical got in the water and made some things that had died come back to life almost, so a guy dies on a ship and his crew mates are sending his mmm through one of those enclosed safety slides to bury him at sea, but when he hits the water, the chemical reacts and he starts to realise his own existence as a dead human. 

Then the same thing happens to a butterfly who was tortured by a nasty kid, so the butterfly attacks the kid and freaks him out so much that he falls out a window.
Weird, right? 

Getting Back into Writing | Honest To Blog #3

I’m struggling to start writing anything of meaning. I have an unfinished manuscript that’s nearly three years in the making, and yet I can’t bring myself to finish it. 

I make excuses of work, and sleep, and social life, but truthfully, I’m not sure what is stopping me from tapping those keys and producing something to be proud of. 

The book I am writing is the second in a trilogy, but despite having planned out the remainder of the plot, I can’t seem to do anything more than make notes. It’s as if I’ve grown bored of the characters, or perhaps they aren’t behaving the way I wanted them to? Who knows, well I should really… 

My friends just tell me to start small with the words, write something else to get back into the habit. I guess that’s what this blog series is: getting back into writing. 

Let’s see if it works, shall we?

Mel x

Pregnancy Dream? |Honest To Blog #2

I had one of those scarily real dreams last night. The kind that makes you wake up and go, ‘What are you playing at, sub-conscience?’

For anyone that knows me personally, you’ll know I am strongly against having children. Nothing about producing offspring seems fun to me, (except the initial sinful act itself). And yet last night, I had what I can only describe as a confusing pregnancy nightmare.

I wake up (in the dream), and I’m holding my tummy and it feels firm, not squishy like normal. And it’s bigger, and lower down, like it’s heavy. Then my back hurts when I try to get out of bed. I get dressed for work and my normally loose fitting top is tight over my stomach. I put a big coat on to try and hide it, and waddle to my bus stop. A sullen teen gives up her seat for me on an empty bus, and I take it like it’s mine and I’m allowed to. When I’m at work, and everyone is grabbing me softly, bringing me tea and making me sit down. I keep holding my tummy and trying to figure out what’s wrong with me.

Then an old work friend, (who in real life had a baby six months ago, and also has the same first name as me), comes in and is big and pregnant. She wobbles over to me and bumps her baby bump against my stomach. Everyone seems so happy that my stomach is swollen, and then when I waddle back to the staff room, there are pink balloons everywhere and people are giving me gift bags.

Suddenly, I’m in my garage, playing with my pet rabbit, and a guy friend of mine appears out of nowhere and tells me to sit down, to relax. That I’ll hurt the baby. ‘What baby?’ I ask, but he doesn’t answer; he just makes me sit down. Then my tummy starts to really hurt and I can feel myself getting cramps.

I wake up. (And no, I’m definitely not pregnant.)

Pregnancy dreams symbolize an aspect of yourself or some aspect of your personal life that is growing and developing. Being pregnant in your dream may also represent the birth of a new idea, direction, project or goal. – Dreammoods.com

I’m about to start a new chapter in my life, returning to university to do my Master’s. Maybe that’s it?

Over and out,

Mel x

Stressing, Reflecting | Honest To Blog #1

I’ve recently taken up journaling again, so I thought I would try something new after remembering the phrase ‘honest to blog’ from the movie, Juno. I don’t know if this will be a regular segment, but I thought I would give it a go anyway.

I write mostly in a stream of consciousness when it comes to journaling, so keep that in mind if I go slightly off track.

#1

I’ve got Spotify playing in the background, – because I can’t write without music – and I realized that I’ve never even heard of eighty percent of the UK Top 20. I’ve noticed recently that I’ve left a lot of that behind; keeping up to date with music and TV trends. Like, sure, I watch Game of Thrones – but I haven’t even started Season 7. And I don’t know about all this rivalry between pop stars, or who all these seemingly young pop-hipster-wannabes are in the charts. They all look the same.

Actually, everyone looks the same these days! I was walking through town the other day, and saw several (individual girls – not in a weird group where they basically clone each other and call themselves a ‘squad’); and they were all wearing ripped denim jeans, a white t-shirt of some kind, and an oversized denim jacket. If it hadn’t been for the different hair colours and styles, I wouldn’t have noticed they weren’t the same girl. Strange, how I still call anyone under the age of thirty, a girl. I’m not a girl, I’m a woman, and yet I still don’t feel old enough to be a woman, or a grown up, or anything really. I feel like my first year was five minutes ago, and five years (like it actually was), all at once.

Strange, how I still call anyone under the age of thirty, a girl. I’m not a girl, I’m a woman, and yet I still don’t feel old enough to be a woman, or a grown up, or anything really. I feel like my first year was five minutes ago, and five years (like it actually was), all at once.

I’m getting nervous about going back to do my Master’s, Two years out of education has taken its toll on me. I never read or write anymore. I just work, eat, sleep, and watch YouTube and Netflix. My book-buying habit has swapped for junk food, makeup, and clothes.

I was going through some clothes the other day and found loads of old jumpers from my uni days, and I was smacked with nostalgia for autumn, and cold nights huddled up in my room studying. Or curling up with a good book so late into the night until I couldn’t even keep my eyes open. Back in the days when I had a desktop, not a laptop. I couldn’t afford anything, and yet I felt rich. Now, I’ve landed a decent job with the best money I’ve ever made, and yet I’m always broke. Always spending on things I don’t need to. Yet, back in the day, (oh, as if uni was decades ago!) deciding whether I wanted to treat myself to MacDonalds or a new book; a book would always win. When Amazon delivered a new book every other day. When my student loans were exclusively spent in Wetherspoons, ASDA, and charity shops.

Strange, how this is the most I have written in weeks, on a day where I’m feeling a little lost, a little selfish and a little-too-ready to question everything about my life. Waiting for the boy I like to make his mind up. Waiting for my Master’s degree to start. Waiting for the better, brighter version of me to come back. Waiting for the passion to return to my life. Missing my friends, my care-free-study-hard lifestyle to return, if only for a brief moment. I guess I’m waiting for the monotony to end.

Over and out,

Mel x