#reflective entry

This morning, I woke up with a tight feeling across my entire body, which I usually experience when the weather is about to change. I was reluctant to leave my comfortable bed, and I knew, before ever checking the news, that it was going to be cold. I was right. 30f all morning, and as of about an hour ago, snowing. This is the first snow of the season. While I doubt it will stick to the roads or sidewalks for at least a few more weeks, I know that I am on borrowed time until I will need to replace my worn-through snow boots and dig out the bulky coats. I've always loved colder weather, although I would never say no to a warm, overcast day, especially if there is a cool breeze... I would consider myself a "selectively Autumn" kind of person.

When I was younger, I would always look forward to winter. I could put on my coat, boots, and several layers of pants, escape into the snowy woods for hours at a time, and have no worry of being attacked by wild animals or irritated by certain plants. For much of my life, I have lived in places where this habit was easily accomplished, and my mildly asocial behavior would be encouraged, as long as I remembered to come back every few hours to prove to my mother that I hadn't frozen to death yet (although, even this could be avoided if I dragged any one of my six siblings along with me in a buddy system, usually my twin sister). I have many fond memories of laying in the snow until the sky began to darken, so insulated that I barely felt the cold, or so numb already that it didn't bother me. There's nothing as beautiful as the night sky in winter from my hometown, where the light pollution is minimal, and I could truly be on my own for as long as my body could stand, just watching the sun set and the sky darken. I would pull my arms and face into my coat, and peek out, conserving warmth like some type of brightly colored polar bear. Thinking about it now, I am experiencing the kind of melancholy that is only possible when you know that you will never go back to it. I can still bundle up and lay in the snow, but I'm not a child anymore. My body is not capable of the hours of exploration and contemplation that I was once able to do. A small convenience store recently was built near my rural home, and the night sky has changed. Although it is only one store, it's harder to see the stars. The last time I was home, I could barely make out any constellations.

Snow laden midnight walks may have changed, but other things have stayed exactly the same. In my region, we make snow ice cream. I'm not sure if they do it in other places, but it is something that I was raised on. It consists of fresh powdery snow, sweetened condensed milk, and a small dash of vanilla, which is all mixed together and eaten as fast as possible. It is something that must be made fresh, and it cannot be refrozen. It was always a definitive part of the first snow experience, and I can recall a particularly dire blizzard in which my mother would send my siblings and I out to collect snow, in an attempt to keep us hydrated. To make it more interesting, we made much of it into snow ice cream. I haven't had it in years, but I suspect that the flavor is exactly like I remember it, but it is possible that my adult palate will not find it as satisfying as I once did.

This has been my first week on Spacehey. I have enjoyed it so far, although I must admit that I do not have the same MySpace nostalgia that so many have for the site. I am within the age range of those that would have experienced it, but I lived a very sheltered childhood and it was never in the cards. Regardless, I have found the userbase to be, for the most part, very welcoming and pleasant.

Preface out of the way, I will now review my week, both online events and offline. I will start with the lows so I can end with the highs.

Lows:

I neglected my responsibilities and will be spending the next 24 hours attempting to get my work done on time. I don't like rushing things, but I am unfortunately a procrastinating perfectionist.

There is someone currently living with me that I do not like, and although this is out of my control, I find it difficult to stop myself from feeling responsible for his generally unlikable personality and inability to clean up after himself. Hopefully he will be gone soon, though, and I can use my abilities to be slightly irritating to incentivize his exit.

Highs:

I am visiting family for the weekend. It is nice to get away from my living situation, even if it means staying with the aforementioned slob and sleeping in my childhood bed. At least I am able to see my pets, as the place I am staying does not allow me to take them with me when I leave. I will be back this summer, though, which gives me the boost of energy I need to complete my job strong. I am taking it one day at a time until there are no more days to withstand.

There is a rush of inspiration swirling around my mind at this new social media. I always find the first week of joining a website like this, while my persona has not yet established itself, to be the most rewarding. What do I want to do with this opportunity? Who will I portray? It feels good, like a clean start. I always end up being myself, though, which isn't an entirely horrible person to be. It still feels thrilling, imprinting my shape onto the plush expanse of my account.

I tried a new drink that I enjoyed. Finding joy in the little things is essential, which is why I am pleased that I was able to try a new type of soda this week that I thought was very refreshing and delicious. "Coca-Cola Starlight" is a marshmallowy, minty, vanilla cola that I found extremely wonderful. Hopefully it becomes a staple in the company's arsenal. It makes me feel what the people of Fallout must have felt with all of the strange versions of their cola, although hopefully without the side effects. I do not forsee myself becoming addicted to this soft drink.

The weather was pleasant. It was overcast and rainy, but was warm. I was able to enjoy a slight breeze and a light drizzle on my morning commute, which is always exhilarating, although it reminds me that perhaps it is time to invest in a raincoat.

Often while dreaming, I'll find myself in places I have seen before. Typically these locations are professional in nature, such as a church or school, however I have also dreamt about leisure locations, such as bars, settings from my favorite video games, or shopping centers. Typically, I feel a sense of deja vu that sticks with me well into the day, like the residues from a label placed with improper adhesive. It's an eerie feeling and it leaves me uneasy.

I will often remember these dreams, which is perhaps why the locations repeat themselves. Or perhaps it is the other way around, and the consistency of the setting is what prompts my unconscious mind to file it away as essential information.

The first time I noticed a dream like this was when I was a child. I would be plagued by an image of a lake of fire, a small obsidian island surrounded by lava and smoke. It was inside a cave of some kind, and the only way to the bridge, a small bridge of dark stone, was guarded by mythical creatures. Typically these would be cyclopses or ogres, my mortal enemies from my days of playing games such as RuneScape or Dragon's Dogma, but occasionally the bridge would be guarded by a dragon.

This dragon was a large and beautiful creature, with scales that reflected the hellish environment in a way that was practically luminescent. It had piercing eyes that could hypnotize any young knight with any (literal) dream of conquering the creature. When the dragon was not there, the dream would end in my fragile form being tossed into the fire by the brutes, often as I watched in third person, helpless.

When the dragon was there, however, the dreams were different. I was inside of my body, a strange sensation in this setting. I felt strong and in control, something quite foreign to a young Guy that had been raised to be an obedient member of his church. The dragon would circle me as I attempted to cross the bridge, not flying but crawling across the stones as if it were a large cat, eyeing me with a curious look. "Haven't we been here before," it seemed to say, "Don't you remember what happened last time?"

The dreams would always end when I reached the island. There was nothing there, only the rocky shore, littered in shards of volcanic glass. I would explore my surroundings, warily eyeing the dragon. When I realized there was nothing for me here, no treasure or princess or glory, the dragon would wrap around me as if it were a serpent and I was nothing more than a lowly rodent. It would squeeze me until the precious life left my clumsy and weak body, and I would awaken, breathless and terrified. This dream would happen every few weeks, with roughly one out of every dozen being the variant that ended with my helpless struggle against that awe inspiring beast.

At the same time, I was noticing how different I was from those around me. My interests were strange, and I didn't fit in with those at the same stage of development as myself. I felt isolated, not only socially, but emotionally. I was frustrated by my ineptness and I often had fits of rage, often pointing my outbursts at my body. It was a dark time, and I genuinely believe that I am only here today because of what happened in this repetitive dream during the height of my destruction.

The dream began as normal. I was on the bridge, in of my eyes. I knew even before I opened them that the dragon was there, but I felt different. As I continued on the bridge, the dragon lagged behind me, apprehensive. It could also feel the shift. I had a weapon in my hands, a sturdy mace, which I felt my grip tighten on as I continued. Halfway across the bridge, the dragon slithered across my path. It flattened to the ground, observing my action. The expression of curious amusement that typically graced it's face was absent, instead replaced by one of fury and disgust. I felt nothing but contempt for it, as I'm sure it felt for me. We were bitter old warriors and I needed it to be over.

I don't remember the battle, but I could feel the blood of the beast coating my weapon and body as I trudged the final stretch of the bridge. At the island, typically my final resting place, was a door. It was a plain archway, with an antique door in the center, one not unlike the ones in my childhood home. As I stepped through, I awoke in my bed, calm and with a new zest for life.

I had never felt so clean. My anger at my life and my personality was still there, but I no longer felt bound by it. I began to work through the sources of my frustrations. Although I still have a long way to go, I am no longer the bitter young child I was. I am a man now, a man with a love for myself and my surroundings. That child is still inside of me, however, and I must nurture it. I no longer dream of killing my dragons, but in a way, I do it every time I forgive those that wronged me or consider my feelings before acting. Every time I heal myself, a new weapon is added to my arsenal.