Tsunami warning

Last night I had an awful dream. Me, my mother, my sister, a friend of mine and a baby (wtf) were on a tropic island, and we all had gotten the news that a tsunami (four hundred friggin' meters tall) was on its way, straight towards us. The others were disturbingly calm about the minor we're-all-gonna-die-a-terrible-death situation, and I tried to get them to see what was happening. At the end after a few feebly attempts to save us all from certain death, we ended up sitting on the beach, having our last meal and the best seats witnessing the horizon disappear behind a wall of devastating water. All through this, the others toasted for each other, life, the sun and everything they appreciated. I began running back and forth, trying to find something, anything, to save us from being killed. Of course, as the rest of my attempts, it was feeble, and in the hands of people I love I was washed away, and woke up.



God I hate dreams like these. Many times I try to decipher my dreams, but most of the times they're so surreal that they make absolutely NO sense, or I forget them before I remember to write them down. This one though, I find quite easy to make sense from.
It's about my trip to the US, the anxiety I feel about leaving everyone in my life for something completely new, unknown. The wave represents the trip, and the people I was with represents everything I'll put on hold for a year - the wave being inevitable. I think it's strange when one can interpret one's dreams. Have you ever tried?

God, I'll miss my friends and family. Sedate me anyone, I'm getting US nerves.

Song of the day: I Wish We Were Older by Metro Station.


Woop Woop.