The dream of life is almost always unattainable. But to live without a dream is quite un-dreamable. If I did not dream I never would have survived my almost five years of nonexistence. And after those five years life was still nonexistent but for the ridiculously thankful job which has now turned into the hell of my life. My dream is now my nightmare. The job itself was not the dream but the life it was suppose to bring. Responsiblity is a natural dream killer. Those dreams that got me through the 1,825 days and nights have now disappeared. Can I not remember them or has my unfailing unhappiness clouded over them? Or were they dreams of a child and now having grown up a bit over the last 1,065 days shown their true colors of moronic childish dreams? When do dreams become dreams and just dreams? Should you know at first dream? Or is dreaming about a dream that will never be the best there is because you are always looking and working towards something and those days when you feel as though you can not go on but you do go on it is there to guide you? I am trying to capture the "zen" inside me these days. Counting to ten is a very helpful technique that I need to depend on more often. My answers are more non-answers. I keep my lips together to stop myself from saying the worst. I have a dialogue running constantly inside of the things I wish I could say but know I never will. Some are pretty well thought out that I replay over and over. Others are spure of the moment and only ment to make myself feel better. (sometimes more helpful than counting.) Until the next dream...