Man, I'm so freaking sick of this mess. Everytime that evil ignorant ass skank pops up, I'm reminded of the past. And now its creeping into my dreams. My concious life is strange enough without visions of the past and alternate future sneaking into my unconcious life. I should be dreaming of the vacation i'm going to be taking pookie on, once I start this new job. I should be dreaming of how successful and happy my son would be. Or even having dreams about how dope my digital magazine will be (coming soon!! Look out for it in 2010!) No, instead I'm having dreams about my ex. What the fuck? I remember that he wanted to fuck me in the dream. But I don't really recall being all that excited about it. Its funny, if I wanted to see, talk to, or even fcuck that funky wack ass bastard, I'm sure that I could. But I wouldn't for a few reasons. 1) His dick has been in that nasty ass hoe, so I'm sure it'll be falling off any day now, both from disease and from the sheer terror of going where so so so so so many other men have gone before. 2) With my ex it was fucking, with Pookie, it's making love. Yeah, its freaky to a tee, but it's still making love.
I remember the first time that Pookie and I had sex and I remember the feeling of "this is what making love feels like." I remember how concerned he was and how much we kissed. I remember feeling blissful. Of course there was the awkwardness of the first time two people have sex, but even with that first time awkwardness, I still felt a huge difference. And I've been hooked on his soul ever since.
My cousin's recent death has had me thinking what I'd do if I lost Pookie. I think I'd be in a mental institution. The night after I got the news about my cousin, Pookie went out. I called him about 5 times that night only to make sure that he was okay. Sometimes he gets so irritated when I bug him to let me know that he's coming home. He's blessed enough to have never gotten the news that he'll never see his best friend again. I've had to live that nightmare twice. I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy. Your stomach knots up, your heart races, your mouth gets dry, your mind leaves. You try to digest it that you'll never see your loved one again. Every time you hear a song or think about a certain moment, you cry at the drop of a hat. Pookie is lucky, even though his life hasn't been easy either.
Pookie has good dreams about good times.
I have dreams about dumbasses and I've lived a few nightmares.