![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
Let's start with the haiku:
You have to be a bit creative with pronounciation to make the syllables work, but I like it anyway.
And another, which rather encapsulates Spain:
Last night I dreamed that I was still in middle school. Two friends of mine had been friends with another girl named McKenzie (I haven't a clue if this was her first or last name) who had died. And the friend I didn't hang out with so much was sad and mopey but seemed to be on a normal grieving whatever like she would be okay, but the friend I hung out with more was really repressing her feelings and flying of into random tantrums and generally dealing by flying off the handle at everyone, especially the friend I didn't hang out with so much. And some of this was happening on lj. And at the point where the angry friend was writing really vicious stuff about the other friend's community (lj community="wemissmckenzie"), I decided that enough was enough and anger was fine, but this wasn't fair to everyone else, so I dragged her over to actually sit down and talk with the other friend. And I started doing some sort of mediation, as best I could, and then McKenzie showed up and started explaining The History Of These Friendships (she was a ghost, maybe? It didn't seem odd to us at the time). And it turned out that McKenzie and I had been friends for a while, only she was pretty clingy and didn't want to let me have any other friends, and it got to the point where she gave me an ultimatum to that effect, and my response was, "Well fine. I like being your friend, but not enough to give up everybody else's friendship," and that was the end of us being friends. Only I had forgotten that this had happened. McKenzie hadn't, though, and had come to the conclusion that she needed to be less controlling or no one would want to be her friend, and made friends with friend1 and friend2. And we worked out all of friend2's emotional mess, and then, in the way of dreams, the plot rather seemed to forget that McKenzie was supposed to be dead, and I came to the conclusion that she was still pretty cool, and we went off and had some M&M's. Yum chocolate. But they got my hand sticky. So much for "melts in your mouth."
And that was my dream. It's actually not quite as strange as it seems that I would have forgotten meeting McKenzie the first time - there are large portions of elementary school that I don't remember. I mean, you would think that someone hurling a desk would be memorable, yeah? A reliable witness (Viola) tells me that this did indeed happen in our third grade class - I don't remember it. She says that I'm better at repressing bad memories than she is. I'm not sure if this is true, or if I just remember random stuff from elementary school. I remember meeting Lizzie. And waiting in the hall during report card conferences. And the grade above ours having a Pilgrim Extravaganza that we got to visit. And trying to teach my fourth grade class to fold paper cranes. And my dad messing up the time for the concert in kindergarten or first grade and arriving after the beginner cellists had played, and being completely mortified and going home again. Actually, that last one is a pretty good counter-argument to the repressing bad memories thing. Because it was awful. On the plus side, I do think that it's one of the reasons I have very little stage fright. Because really, no matter how badly you screw up, you were at least there to do the screwing up. Or maybe I just don't have much stage fright because they stuck me up on a stage twice yearly ever since kindergarten (except for that one concert I missed) in front of several hundred people and told me to play (badly. They didn't say that, but have you ever heard people learning to play the cello? It's not as bad as people learning to play the violin, but it's still pretty awful. I remember the one guy two grades above me who everyone was so impressed with because he could make the baby cellos sound good by playing accompaniment. He went to some exclusive music conservatory in England. He was also a really nice guy. And I can't for the life of me remember his name. Dirk? Bert? Bart, that was it). At any rate, my conclusion is that I just remember different things than Viola does.
And of course, dragon:

You have to be a bit creative with pronounciation to make the syllables work, but I like it anyway.
And another, which rather encapsulates Spain:
Last night I dreamed that I was still in middle school. Two friends of mine had been friends with another girl named McKenzie (I haven't a clue if this was her first or last name) who had died. And the friend I didn't hang out with so much was sad and mopey but seemed to be on a normal grieving whatever like she would be okay, but the friend I hung out with more was really repressing her feelings and flying of into random tantrums and generally dealing by flying off the handle at everyone, especially the friend I didn't hang out with so much. And some of this was happening on lj. And at the point where the angry friend was writing really vicious stuff about the other friend's community (lj community="wemissmckenzie"), I decided that enough was enough and anger was fine, but this wasn't fair to everyone else, so I dragged her over to actually sit down and talk with the other friend. And I started doing some sort of mediation, as best I could, and then McKenzie showed up and started explaining The History Of These Friendships (she was a ghost, maybe? It didn't seem odd to us at the time). And it turned out that McKenzie and I had been friends for a while, only she was pretty clingy and didn't want to let me have any other friends, and it got to the point where she gave me an ultimatum to that effect, and my response was, "Well fine. I like being your friend, but not enough to give up everybody else's friendship," and that was the end of us being friends. Only I had forgotten that this had happened. McKenzie hadn't, though, and had come to the conclusion that she needed to be less controlling or no one would want to be her friend, and made friends with friend1 and friend2. And we worked out all of friend2's emotional mess, and then, in the way of dreams, the plot rather seemed to forget that McKenzie was supposed to be dead, and I came to the conclusion that she was still pretty cool, and we went off and had some M&M's. Yum chocolate. But they got my hand sticky. So much for "melts in your mouth."
And that was my dream. It's actually not quite as strange as it seems that I would have forgotten meeting McKenzie the first time - there are large portions of elementary school that I don't remember. I mean, you would think that someone hurling a desk would be memorable, yeah? A reliable witness (Viola) tells me that this did indeed happen in our third grade class - I don't remember it. She says that I'm better at repressing bad memories than she is. I'm not sure if this is true, or if I just remember random stuff from elementary school. I remember meeting Lizzie. And waiting in the hall during report card conferences. And the grade above ours having a Pilgrim Extravaganza that we got to visit. And trying to teach my fourth grade class to fold paper cranes. And my dad messing up the time for the concert in kindergarten or first grade and arriving after the beginner cellists had played, and being completely mortified and going home again. Actually, that last one is a pretty good counter-argument to the repressing bad memories thing. Because it was awful. On the plus side, I do think that it's one of the reasons I have very little stage fright. Because really, no matter how badly you screw up, you were at least there to do the screwing up. Or maybe I just don't have much stage fright because they stuck me up on a stage twice yearly ever since kindergarten (except for that one concert I missed) in front of several hundred people and told me to play (badly. They didn't say that, but have you ever heard people learning to play the cello? It's not as bad as people learning to play the violin, but it's still pretty awful. I remember the one guy two grades above me who everyone was so impressed with because he could make the baby cellos sound good by playing accompaniment. He went to some exclusive music conservatory in England. He was also a really nice guy. And I can't for the life of me remember his name. Dirk? Bert? Bart, that was it). At any rate, my conclusion is that I just remember different things than Viola does.
And of course, dragon:
