Tell me your thoughts on my garbage: In the beginning the dream starts relatively normal. I either feel so comfortable within it or simply allow myself to forget it is an illusion. Always watching from a third person perspective at all times I watch myself living a life so similar to my actual one but not. In Jungian psychology it would be called dream ego. I looked it up few times, what I got from it is the idea that it is something pertaining to real life but, something that you are yet to face or something you are refusing to acknowledge. Fucking psychologist always making up new ways for us to be broken, always finding new flaws or creating them. Anyway. So the dream is always the same, I'm watching myself work, shop, eating. Its all so fucking tedious the same shit routine over and over again. I don’t know why that surprised me though, boring life, boring dreams. I don’t know what I expected, maybe...maybe I thought if I just spent my time doing the right thing, putting in the effort being safe. I thought maybe it would be worth it. That's a joke though, shitty job, even shittier apartment. Dad drank too much and ran his mouth too often to the wrong people, I would always wish when I was a kid that he would just shut the fuck up. Well someone finally shut him up. Heh. Mom checked out shortly after. She was there but not there, I guess that's what love is though. Her husband was an ignorant angry and paranoid drunk who thought she was annoying and wasted more space than she took up. She loved him though. Losing him broke whatever was left in her. It took a few years but looking back I can remember them being happy. Its distant now but I can see the little smile she would crack in the side of her mouth when dad would say something snide to company. A normal family is not the wording I would use to describe us. There was this time, this time when I was a little younger. I was about five years older than Denny then. See we grew up in Ecorse, this little good for...