Welcome to Heath's Mind (Watch Your Step)

This is well and good but this is one of my dreams, meaning it can't remain PG rated, so...

Of course, I got mixed up with a very sketchy crowd and by crowd I mean 3 other individuals that were also apparently homeless and we traveled in an incredibly old car that miraculously was still running. Before I joined their party I had murdered quite a lot of people senselessly and now that I was with this group, some among them murdered a few people and because of how they were killed and who those victims were, we now had the FBI and police watching us closely.

At some point I was essentially shedding caps of my teeth. Top layers were coming loose and I pulled them off to reveal smaller versions of the same teeth. There wasn't even blood.

I was one of their 3 prime suspects in this homicide investigation and while they had no proof they were surveying us every opportunity they had. Generally we were trying to lay so low they wouldn't know where to find us, but I went to this facility with puzzles and while I cannot recall what the prize was if you completed all of the challenges, I wanted it and the FBI and police were there "undercover." They were doing a poor job of being subtle as I made them immediately when this one woman brought me a box with items I needed for the challenge I was working on and it had a camera "hidden" in the corner of it.

I turned the box so that the camera was recording no visuals.

They brought another out and stuck it on the table in front of me.

Now, I can't recall exactly how the puzzle was presented to me but I was trying to select 3 codes of a 2 or 3 combination of letters and numbers each by finding the letters and numbers I needed in 3 Rolodex-style fixtures. There was a time limit and the authorities, just to mess with me, "accidentally" reset mine so that I had no time to reselect all the combinations I needed and so I failed and could not proceed.

I came to the realization that I could not become a cop if I was a homicide suspect (because in reality I am interested in law enforcement) and also that, in the dream, I was a sociopath who wanted to join law enforcement and do good there but I was also somehow perfectly fine with how I had senselessly ended lives so long as no authorities found out and if they discovered my abilities, they would know I was responsible for the trail of frozen victims.

A resolution wasn't reached before my alarm went off but I don't think they were ever going to gather evidence to convict anyone.

I don't mind math and I do well with practical math, but it was always my least favorite subject so you see why I was surprised that this entire dream was centered around it. I was attending a university and living in dormatories (my roommate was a now deceased high school classmate) and we were studying an article from a magazine about a controversial mathematician who had made ground-breaking advances and was known to be missing. Our assignment was to complete the equations in the article and so I sought the help of an elder math guru who thought poorly of the younger generation(s), but I managed to win him over by not being abhorrent with math and, as I like to think, my charm. One of the problems was literally Thursday squared multiplied by Thursday over Thursday.

Reading in dreams tends to stand out since I have to concentrate so much harder to do so successfully than I do when reading in reality.

The guru aided me in completing the preliminary problems that lead up to the master equation and final assessment in the first stage of this adventure to discover what had happened to the mathematician. The guru explained to me that it would take four or so hours for me to do and that I had to solve it alone. I recall that it was already nearly 1 AM. Attached to this master math problem was a 9 MM revolver.

LITERALLY ATTACHED INSIDE THIS MAGAZINE.

Yes, a gun was evidently a necessity for the continuation as the next step was to go to the house where he had last lived and I presume there were anticipated dangers as the circumstances of his disappearance suggested foul play.

Being a dedicated student, but more importantly too curious for my own good, I solved this final equation and took my revolver to the now abandoned home. There were signs of a struggle...

I CAN ONLY KILL SO MANY INFECTED PEOPLE WITH MY BARE HANDS AND I NEED THE REST.

Since zombies and the undead have risen in popularity with many movies and the hit television series The Walking Dead, zombie apocalypse dreams are common for fans. Right? I've had my fair share or perhaps surplus.

Usually they're entertaining because I pretty much always figure out that it's a dream (especially if they can speak because, come on, everyone knows zombies don't talk!) and the majority of the time the entire scenario is that I have to protect a group of strangers (who are stupidly loud and clumsy) from getting killed and we're in the most poorly constructed cities ever.

I mean, seriously--there's no way these contractors were licensed because everything is flimsy as hell and the cities stretch on and on because vast landscapes and great detail are some of the earmarks of these dreams. With great detail comes a very high graphic quality and this applies also and perhaps especially to anything dead or undead. Anything morbid, really, which allows for a wide spectrum of gore.

Well, a few weeks back my brain decided to be a bitch (as it is apt to do) and instead of zombies, they were more like fevered metahumans. When they became infected, they actually became stronger and faster, and for some reason my kid sisters were both there along with (spoiler: common theme) corpses that were lying all about in various states of decay. So not only did I have to try to keep them from staring at these bodies that were strewn everywhere, but the steroid/disease-infused humans were trying to murder them all over the place. Luckily, I had the ability to fly and shoot flames because I knew it was a dream and frequently I award myself super powers for such occasions.

At the end of last week I dreamed of zombies again--actual zombies this time--and they were attacking me and my friend. This dream was decidedly unpleasant because it was all the zombies in the world against us and there were no good places to hide. No escape. I don't recall what this friend's name was or if it was even brought up, but we'll call him Pete.

Pete didn't make it.

No, he was turned when we made it to the final room of the dream (things weren't built so sturdy again, but this time it was more like the building had a low budget) and the female undead in there with us bit him. She bit me, too, but I knew it was a dream and therefore could not be turned. I did curiously note that the bite hurt, but not as much as it would in reality (I've gotten to the point where I spend a decent amount of time studying the believability of my surroundings while dreaming--this is likely why I pick up on being in dreams) before I placed my hands inside her mouth and basically pulled it open until her head ripped in two. I had to do the same with Pete because I had no weapon handy.

It was very graphic. Let's just say that.

I closed the doors (without touching them because lucid dream powers) but they weren't going to hold longer than 5 minutes. At that point I tried to wake up, which works sometimes. It didn't this time, but I did manage to change channels away from that situation (and convince myself I had woken).

Original Context: http://bisexualityisthefuture.tumblr.com/post/4005765784/my-parents-think-im-a-lesbian-and-im-running-with-it

Update 1: http://bisexualityisthefuture.tumblr.com/post/4549510129/code-name-operation-flannel-jacket-update

So after I spoke with my mother about issues that only concern heterosexuals in a heterosexual relationship, I thought that surely my mother would no longer consider that I might be a lesbian.

Recapping, she's only thinking that I'm either gay or straight--option C (bisexuality) has not and most likely will not occur to her. Because I have a great or horrible, depending on how you look at it, sense of humor and know that my parents will be okay with my orientation, I'm trying to convince my mom that I'm a lesbian. My minimal goal is to keep her confused. (Yes, I'm a terrible daughter and I'm cool with that.)

Back to the update, I had to purchase a new car recently and I decided to put a rainbow ribbon on the back of it. I was explaining to my mother that the ribbon shows my support for gay rights--I have no idea what she thought it might mean--and, point blank, she asked me "Are you gay?"

There is still hope for this project. C:

I'm 80% sure that I'm lactose intolerant. It's not severe by any means as I've gotten used to the consequences for the last several years, but now that I all but know for a fact that this is the explanation, why deal with it if I can avoid it? Lactose intolerance would explain why these issues persisted on such a highly regular basis--I drink milk all the time. Several glasses almost every day and I've been this fond of milk my entire life.