People are so... different.

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I was recently speaking about dreams.  I have written about them here, long ago, probably lost in the texts of Doom.  A few quaint, to me, notions.

Have you dreamed a whole lifetime?  I have.  I spoke of a time I dreamed my life to forty years of age, roughly.  I didn't remember every last moment, but I dreamed I lived them.  I remembered as much of that life as I remember this life, if this life has been longer... and I have memory problems.  Still, the idea is similar.

He thought that was... odd.  The look, on his face, more than anything he said.

I told him I have dreamed of flying.  I used to have nightmares of falling.  They terrorized my childhood.  Sometimes leading to me falling out of a bunkbed?  Or was I pulled out, by someone or some thing?  I never knew.  But I did end up on the floor many times.  Who knows what happens, in the dark, as a child.

I learned to dream to prevent that horror.  I didn't mention that I learned  to fly through steel, bending four to six inch plates in my way.  Not pridefully, accidentally, at first.  I still avoided steel plates when possible, but sometimes I had no choice.

I told him I learned to change my dreams.  To alter them.  I am aware I am dreaming, pretty much always.  I didn't tell him that last part.  I did tell him that I started learning to control my dreams in order to change a specific group of dreams.  I didn't tell him which ones, but it was the ones in which some of my people die in combat.  Since I was... never in combat(?)... I... didn't want to dream about that.  Those are the only dreams I can't, yet, change.  I have learned to see more, if I'm not sure the new material is original.  As for true?  I... just wish I could change them.  I can't even stop those dreams, or not quickly.  At least, now, I know I am dreaming when they happen.

I dreamed of these things.

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As a child, before I knew of my nature, I dreamed this following many times, several times a year at least.  Sometimes the dreams would terrify me.  I had them often.  I described them to my mother, but... she doesn't remember.  I had them until my later teens.  Sometimes, as mentioned, they were terrifying.  Though, in time, the dreams became... almost comforting, in familiarity, if always terribly powerful dreams for reasons I could not understand.

So late. And with or at?

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So dark.  Rather cold as well.  Snowing, again.  If it snows heavier, we could see a blizzard.  The wind is rattling the world.  I could not wake up!  Now I know why.  Thankfully I turned the heat on and up to 70 before bedtime... after being cool to cold all day yesterday.  Amazing weather for April.  March, sure.  But April?

After the alarms, at 07:00 and 09:00... which I was sure would wake me but failed, dreams.  One of them was of the devil, L... actually.  In the form she prefers, speaking to me in the form she would rather I be.  Tempting, too strongly to escape... this time.  I win sometimes.  She was laughing.

Laughing.  At me.  At God.  I was laughing too.  She, initially, thought I was laughing with her.  Then she picked up on something else.  She had to start wondering, with or at?  She asked.  Both, I said.  Though the 'with' part wasn't quite what it seemed.

A mystery?  Aye, to many.  If not THAT Mystery.  Sisters?  Cousins?  They do share traits.  They build, or really destroy, one upon the other.  Their ways.

Trust?

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You?  Me?  Each other?  I don't trust my own, whichever that may be.  I don't trust others.  It's just the way it is.  My faith is in God, not even in myself.  And, yet, I have to start somewhere.  So?  So I trust you at face value until you prove that isn't possible.  Even then, I won't hate you.  I just won't trust you.  Your failure isn't mine.  Even if you steal me blind, you have truly only hurt yourself.

A devil, they say?

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But not the devil they know?

Or...

A very strange accusation.

Worth a grin.  Oh, I think I know who.  You would never guess it.  Though, it might be more than one?

So strange.  Music at yt has been tied up, dried out, and dead for quite some time.  Recently, patterns galore.

Patterns to be sure.

Long nap.

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I had hoped for a few hours.  I got that and more.  I am still tired.  I showered when I woke, and woke with a lark on my mind.  No, not a bird, mostly, a joke of some sort.  It was a wonderful morning for being an afternoon.  Possible?  More than probable, it simply was the way of it.

Millenial, as well as mainstream news, is dying?

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Well, that is the story, as far as the story on it goes.  Is it true?  With trust of media running at 6%, how could it not be true.  Then again, who is polling and who is answering those polls?  I never do polls.  *click*  Why?  It's beyond distrust, it's a sort of fear.  With the media as in bed with the wrong side of politics, as history, ethics, morality, and such go, answer a poll might well end up with misfortune hounding you, possibly to death.  How many Germans, if there had been strong polling, might have ended up in work camps for saying the wrong thing.  How many Russians, Chinese, North Koreans, and Cubans, among many others, end up worked to death or shot for disparaging a government.  The states needed slave labor, those who administered such became addicted to secular power over the life and death of another.

Are these forms of media truly dying?  Is, in other words, pop and propaganda, as news, dying?  No.  It's merely shifting.  Google, for example, is getting... forcing... the advertising hits.  You almost can't find a browser that hasn't been broken, more often by google, though all the techs are involved, all are also involved with government and leftism.  Though, for now, there are a few, if limited at such, means of avoiding propaganda.

As well, I think, after losing the "Hulk" Hogan, the pop media is hiding it's assets, or at least adjusting them so such hits can't hurt them that badly.  They really thought they could get away with anything.  That seems to not be true.  If You say you are worth a billion, guess what?  Lawyers will take that case.  Much more so than if you say you are worth half, or a quarter, of that.  Deep pockets are much more tempting to thieves, even thieves of thieves.  Play gangster long enough, someone will come for your marbles and gold grill.  Whether you survive is not an issue.

I would like to say the crushing of old media was good.  And, on it's own, it is.  As it stands, however, it is out of the pan into the fire.  Now it's faster, slicker, even less honest, government supported, industry bought, and you are it's target.  Not only does your mind and money become the target, but your very soul.  Yeah, the beast wasn't killed, it was simply loosed.  It's much more dangerous outside of it's cage.  Now there is no way to choose whether to be involved with it or not.  Think of that the next time you enter a restaurant or bank and have to face a bank of televisions, or have strange music piped in, or have to cycle through an advertisement, or dozen, just to do some small transaction or contact someone.

I won't miss society.  Society won't notice I am gone.  Deal.

No, not yet.

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No, she said.  A whisper to a sense other than the ears.  Heard, well, though.  I knew what she meant.  I could not comfort her.  I will here.  I think it will find it's way to her.  No, I agree, not yet.  Not by far.  Only a place I visit on the border between here and there, from time to time.  Much as when family visit their kin, where they are buried.  Only, it is myself, of other times, with whom I tarry.  No worries.  I am... well built.

Better. Much.

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With some contemplation, I have figured out the reason for my flight.  The whole reason.  Yeah, there were other things involved.  A bit of consideration and even I realized that wasn't the whole reason.  Some of those things may have lead to the real reason.  Some were born for fame or infamy, and to lead.  Some reject that.  Of those who reject leadership and all that comes with it are two types.  The most common type are the followers.  Fine.  There can only be just so many chiefs.  The other type refuses not just to lead, but also to follow.  But the world doesn't like those last types.  People are attracted to them like moths to a flame.  Of those moths, some are... more, much more, of a threat to one who wishes to be alone, mostly, than others.  Oh, but there is more.  Much more.  But that is much as I will say.

I believe I will finish unpacking tonight.  Undoing the back pack, setting things out to air dry, finishing off the coolers, sorting and storing.  If I still have juice, I will clean off the weight bench and begin lifting.  Oh, not a lot.  Actually just empty bars, and only about an half dozen exercises.  Bench press, butterflies, military, declined and seated, or some such.  Then on to bed, after a shower, to hit it tomorrow.  Oh, and I'll go through my gear and have a pack ready.  The pack is just for weight, though it has some minor essentials, including a meal, a dry and easily dried change of clothes, some minor gear for lighting a fire and such, if I won't use any of it, most likely, until I actually camp out.  Even then I probably won't use much of it, not for an overnighter.

Yes, I told you, I am beginning.  Waking.  Not from want, as that will never work, but from need.  Not to heal, either, but to escape.  If this looks tough, imagine building a cabin, or tracking, hunting, taking, butchering, hauling, then storing a big animal.  I have to compare and contrast this to that, then consider the potential time constraints, draw a line from one to the other, and chart my path.  It'll be much better if I overdo, so long as I don't break (though if I break, if it is complete, that... is better than doing nothing and the options that come with it).  Tick-tock, tick-tock- tick-tock...  Gotta go!

Later.