Breakdancing to King's Field: The Ancient City music

Ragnar decided to give up blogger the other day. That's kind of lamentable, seeing how few folks' footsteps I'd ever want to follow in, and him being one of the major three--seeing how I ditched Xanga just in January. He has done so with good reason--the frotnend has indeed been acting abyssmally lately, causing more posting problems in the last two months than I had in six months with Xanga.

But I swore off Xanga--highschool relations have yet to follow /my/ footsteps, but I needed to increase my distance from some of those relations anyhow.

Ten pages of academia to write before Monday morning--deadline proposed by myself. Five of Philosophy, and five more for English. Oh, and there's that Philosophy midterm on Tuesday for which the material I have been forgetting since getting out of the hospital. All of these things worth, probably, 10% of course grades.

And Monday, at 2pm, is the last chance I'll have to ditch out of this semester entirely. My parents would be somewhat devastated if I felt that way all of a sudden, especially since this move to a new residence hall has been going well, but there is still a lingering dread that supposes I might still consider that. My mind, I have felt, is still not recovered--even now. Lacking focus in too many faculties...

Though dreaming has been returning. And strange dreams have been had--the other night it was, I believe, the fifth "Band Trip" dream that yet lives in memory. I am sure Mr. Brame, beloved conductor, played a large role, and there was a coach bus, and Rob and Jane were both there... but, said with relief, Jane's role was as ordinary as the other peers whose names I have forgotten.

Early this morning I found myself, in a different realm, walking through a theatre. A large, ornate theatre, with a lot of glitz and majestic red curtains hiding the stage. It was a place I've been in before--in my dreams... but back then I left, going back to a hotel room, to confront a familiar face that took the shape of a wall. This time I left, still going back to a hotel room, to confront a boisterous group much similar to the Anime Central group. Which makes a lot of sense, because I have been thinking a lot about this year's convention--it is just five weeks away now, and follows my finals. In fact, I will have my first two days of student-Summer to move back home before it.

But, in this room, among characters such as Emily and Frigo, Ben, Rick, Jordan, and again, less-well-placed (and thus more alarmingly), Jane, and my brother, I... well, the details are failing me.

I think I was building a Lego army, and then was fighting a Lego war, when I found a Lego of the which I doubt exists in this world: with it, I commanded, by thought alone, four nearly-microscopic warships around the room. Jane caused their defeat--either by distracting me, or something more nefarious.

But I determined to find how to repair my new toys. At this point, the dream drastically shifted locales, and I, myself, was looking, first-person, into what I suppose could have been the inside of a wall. Therein, with selection circles out of Baldur's Gate, were a family of spiders. I Mind Controlled them--and sent them to the dock (dream logic), where I also mind controlled a barrel full of food-prepared fish.

Then I had five spiders scurrying and at least a dozen fish flying around the hotel room, wreaking havoc in my name. I think I won.

The obligatory reply to Matthew Rossi was sent off before my self-proposed (there, too) deadline. What honestly took me more than two weeks to complete it I find hard to consider--where did my last two weeks go?

Memories of my old room, and my old roommate, are fading. If I awoke in that bed tomorrow morning, I would feel I was trespassing--even if the time I've spent in /this/ room has been illusion.

I should start one of those papers.