Mr. Sandman

First, I want to bring your ^ attention to that little Easter egg up there. The one that says "365 Photos." See it? That's all I'm going to say. :)

And now, more from the sandman . . .

4/13/2010
I live in a Walmart with my family and several other people I haven't seen in years - theater acquaintances, mostly. Mom and I stay up late watching a movie that turns out to be too loud, and it wakes everyone in the toy section - my family in particular. We all get up and eat a meal in the middle of the night.

I'm getting ready for some event and can't find the right thing to wear. I choose a T-shirt and jeans, so it isn't a formal event. A school bus is our transportation. I leave Hannah with a woman named Tina, who I knew 13 years ago in the show "Jesus Christ Superstar." She's bathing Hannah in the Walmart bathroom when I leave, commenting on the nice lavender towels we picked out for her.

There are creatures outside that we do not speak of, but they are the reason we stay in at night. They lurk around the house (my parents' house?), waiting to kill whoever should wander too far from home. Wolves or bears, but smart ones that talk. It seems they are misunderstood - to them their purpose is pure. They are protecting us from something even worse - ourselves.

4/14/10
I wake up from a deep sleep and crawl to the computer. I can't open my eyes and I can't tell if I'm awake or asleep, but I feel so heavy, like a weight is pulling me to the ground, like gravity is stronger for a day. I have the urge to take a million microscopic plugs and close off my pores, so afraid am I that my soul will melt and seep out of my body from the heavy pull of gravity. The plugs are multicolored, so when I'm done plugging my pores I look like a Light Bright. Someone comments that clogging my pores is bad for me. I tell them they're wrong, to just look at the healthy glow of my skin. I do all of this kneeling in front of the computer, wondering what to write next.

4/19/10
I'm making plans with a girlfriend to travel to a nearby island for a girls' day out. We don't have a car to get to the ferry port, so I suggest we ride our bikes. She gives me a long speech about how she is against bikes. Something she says irks me so much that we part ways. She walks home, and I ride my bike to the ferry port, where I meet up with three other girls who are going to the island. They say they're going there for drugs and "to achieve an altered state of consciousness." Not what I really had in mind, but I go along with them.

We take the ferry across. The island is sandy with an ancient feeling - like India. We shop around the market place for a while before going to this "hippy convention." Before entering the small stadium we have to take off our shoes and are given pipes of some unknown substance to smoke. I sit down and find Hans sitting next to me. He's already high. The service begins with a monk giving a benediction or opening prayer. It's in a language I don't recognize. Then the monk begins his sermon. In the middle of it Hans raises his hands and asks if he might share something he learned with everyone. The monk looks a little taken aback at his effrontery, but nods his head. I duck low in my seat to hide my embarrassment as Hans begins to sing a kind of Buddhist chant that is supposed to praise god and bring enlightenment. The monk looks impressed, and begins to sing along. So does everyone in the stadium. It's a song everyone knows but me, and they sing louder and louder. Strange exotic instruments join the singing, and the music is chaotic but prayerful. I look over to my left and there's a glass recording studio, inside of which is a band performing this same chant, but a hipper, rocked-out version of it. Everyone is happy and high, and seems to understand the meaning of the song. I just feel lost.