No More I’s Capitalized… Just the You’s.

I don’t exactly know how to start this post, other than I had a tremendous time with some close friends and enjoyed every minute I was there in Chicago for St. Patrick’s Day. I couldn’t have asked for a better time.

However:

This weekend seemed to be much more than just a visit I gave to my friends. Something seemed to have visited me over those three days, and I’m not the same person as I was last week. Let me explain by starting now, and going back in time.

Sunday, March 17th 2008:
This morning started off great. I woke up dreading the car ride home, but the company of my friends was more than enough to take my mind off of it. We finally got up out of our beds (and in my case, the couch) and got dressed. We packed up out of Ashton’s apartment and drove near Austin’s school, parked, and walked to a nice diner on the corner of a brick street. We had some awesome meals, and even better conversation about memories and plans for the future. And in the middle of this conversation, I was hit by a very strange feeling.

I don’t want to sound crazy or emo or anything like that. I’m writing about this, though, because I have never felt anything like this before, and I still feel uneasy about it all. I don’t really know if I have the words to describe it either, but here goes: Carissa was talking and my mind started wandering, thinking about how I had spent much of my past with these people, and would probably spend more of my future with them, too. I thought about what they might do once I had left for Nashville, and things like that, when all of a sudden I just started freaking out. No one at the table could have known what I was feeling, because I didn’t let it show, but with a jolt I felt like time itself had started to fail. It felt like the present time - the only time I ever exist in, was falling apart. It was like standing on a razor blade, and I was finally losing my balance.

Okay, I realize this sounds stupid. Why would I suddenly feel so insecure about whether time was still functioning at tip-top shape? Well, I can’t really answer that, but I do know that at that moment, I felt like the very nature of my existence was in jeopardy. I remembered thinking frantically, “Stop it. I need to get out of here.”

Ok, so now that we’ve established that I’m a loony and that I like to make up ridiculous stories for attention.

Saturday, March 16th 2008
Nothing too crazy happened this day. We got up, showered, had some hot dogs, went to watch the river turn green, saw a few sights, and ended up on a train late at night to take us back to Ashton’s apartment.

My dream the night before, though, was a bit strange. First off, I was in an organization associated with the government, I believe, to stop these people that had the most destructive weapon in the world. My problem was that I had no idea how this machine worked. All I knew is that the people who controlled it could make anything happen. They could somehow arrange matter and control it fully to do it’s bidding. For instance, one thing they did to one of my partners was somehow make the car he was driving in start to get really hot, until the metal that made up the car was boiling, and it pretty much just melted.

I don’t remember too much else about that dream, but I don’t think it really matters anyway.

Friday, March 15th 2008.
(Before continuing, please read “Friday, March 7th 2008″, more specifically, the end of it)

So I start off with a pretty good solid hours of driving, and I’m making great time. It’s a bit weird when I run into a hearse on the interstate, and weirder when a run into another one a little farther down that I couldn’t seem to get away from. I’m not saying a hearse is any kind of metaphor for anything, all I’m saying is I don’t like driving next to a freaking hearse! Especially because I was stuck behind it for probably 40 minutes, reading the name Nelson Bennett hung on the back window. But that didn’t phase me. I kept on chugging, making great time.

I run into a problem, though, when I got to a gas station in Indiana. I get out of the car, like always, leaving my keys in my seat. I fill the jeep up, and turn around to open the door. It’s locked.

Now I know this doesn’t seem weird. Pretty much everyone has done this. Well, this was my first time locking myself out, and I have no idea how those doors got locked at all. When I turn my jeep off, the doors stay unlocked, and it’s never locked me out in the probably thousand times I’ve filled it up with gas.

Anyway, it’s not that big of deal. I go inside and ask the lady at the desk what I should do. She’s very nice and offers to call the police to come and open it. She says it will take a while, so I wait around inside for a bit. That’s when I see him on the cover of Globe magazine: the man on the bottom from my dream. Larry Sinclair is his name. His picture, along with Obama’s, was plastered on the front cover with a title that read: “Obama Exposed” and it was a story about his supposed gay sex scandal. My jaw probably hit the floor at that point. I had a dream a week previously that people were nagging on Obama about being gay, and here it was, on a magazine cover. And then I realized: would I have seen this cover if my keys wouldn’t have been locked in my car? No. I paid for my gas with my debit card, and if it hadn’t have been locked, I would have drove away without even stepping foot inside that store. I only saw this mysterious magazine that I predicted in some weird freakin mysterious dream because my car doors mysteriously locked themselves while I was outside.

Well, maybe it’s all coincidence. It’s a good story regardless. But if it isn’t coincidence, then what’s going on? If just this little last part of the dream happened, should I be worried that the other parts of the dream will come to pass? Or am I just being so freaking weird and fantastical right now?

Whatever. You can think whatever you want, and when you figure that out, tell me, because I have no idea what to think about it myself….