The deadline for the manga contest is approaching and my artist is only half way through the drawings. He gave up! He doesn’t want the story to be told. I’m not sure if I should tell it anymore since it gives me nightmares. Still, I don’t want our efforts to go to waste, so I will keep at it and maybe tweak it. It might be even better if there was no deadline and it would be less stressful for all of us. AND, it’s not like anyone reads this blog… ‘\_(o_O)_/`
Song and inspiration of the day: BP-How You Like That
I actually knocked out pretty well without the melatonin gummies even though I really craved it. I had a strange dream of DUMPLING and running away from a war zone. Studies showed that if your family experienced a traumatic event, PTSD could trickle down 7 generations. I agree because I’ve been having war nightmares since I was 4. I had the same recurring nightmare of skeleton soldiers marching and hunting me for years and I’d wake up in panic. I think it was from the ticking sound of my mom’s alarm clock, which sounded just like marching soldiers. But I didn’t realize that it was the clock’s fault until I was 8 when I found it hidden under the pillows!
I was in a field where soldiers forced me to walk toward a coconut tree. A soldier threw a huge bucket of freezing water on the man in front of me as a form of torture not allowing him to drink. He screamed and yelled at the man taunting him with water that we all wanted to drink. I was next, but I kept talking to the soldier to distract him from his duty and managed to escape with the other soldier who first pushed me to get in line. I found myself running outside of Dumpling’s territory and met a monk. The monk showed me his bowing ritual and I noticed an army of ants crawling on his shoulder. I was afraid the ants were going to get me, so I ran away from the monk. I could hear Dumpling in his room playing a game with his virtual friends. I felt that he could see me in his security cameras, but he ignored the fact that I was there. I was still trying to be sneaky and tiptoed my way towards the kitchen. His giant golden retriever followed me and sniffed me for a while but did not bark. As he was about to bite me, I yelled for Dumpling to come and help. Dumpling ran down the stairs and asked me what I was doing at his house. I told him I was visiting the temple nearby. He smirked as he went back upstairs nonchalantly. I went outside and saw a tall white woman with orange blonde hair. She looked at me irritated and disgusted as if I was doing something wrong. She said something like, “Do you know he has a wife somewhere? Just stay away from him. He is bad news. I’ve seen so many others of you.” I ended up running into a school classroom. I wrote a song in English mixed with another language down on paper and looked for a guru that could help me edit it. He read over it disapprovingly and asked me to translate it because he couldn’t understand it. I was frustrated because I was told he was the one with all the knowledge and was supposed to be able to read all languages. He looked very similar to Dumpling, but I knew it wasn’t the same person. More soldiers started breaking into the school and we had to run for it. I grabbed the paper with the lyrics out of the guru’s hand as if it had the key to end the war and I woke up.