Saga 084 ~See V, B Leaving~

Dreams are messages. What’s my latest dream/nightmare telling me? It didn’t even star my son but Virgil, but I had intense emotions as if it were B III. It’s been 600 days without him. He’s saying that’s enough. Heart hardening, etc. See V, B Leaving

Friday, September 23, 2022

Saga 084 ~See V, B Leaving~

Hey Lady Sophia,
I AM a Billionaire right now. So, I wonder, are there any machines that control dreaming? Dreams were pretty “intense” last night.

Shouldn’t I call them nightmares, then? Hell! Even dreams, I would say, are “good….” I always say everything I want is impossible, illegal, or insane. Add inane or inconsequential to the mix. I make everything about me, don’t I, ha. The eye in Will (sigh). But my dream was about Braxton. Only it starred Virgil. I haven’t distinguished the two. I should be reading more books on reincarnation and the like. Yet, I’ve been all in on “The Dog Under The Bed” series. Don’t I sound like a little boy? A fucking idiot! Uh, language. It’s not like I can cuss out my “father,” though. Humiliations Galore, where I lay my head, Sophia. And let’s not forget the Day Job and another manager. So dreaming…

I was right where I am now, in bed. The first thing that should have made me take notice of the dream was that Virgil was running down the stairs. He was in a rush to go out like Braxton once was. So why visit me in dreams? Again I never saw Braxton, only Virgil. Opening the door, Virgil rushed out and down the patio steps into the backyard. But then he was sniffing around like he was trying to find a way out. First, V jumped high and escaped. It was as if he was flying. Then the fence fell, and he got out again. A third time he slipped under the fence like he was a bit of slime or mold. Okay, no porn, please, fuck. My mind…

Each time I was able to capture him and bring him back. I don’t know how but I did it. After a while of this happening, there was commentary from a DJ, more like a podcast. You know I can’t stand podcasts… I think. Then there were these black kids watching. One goes, “I don’t like him,” about me, it was a little braided girl. Then I woke up. Before I started looking for that movie “Knock at the Cabin.” It’s the book “The Cabin at the End of the World.” Oh yeah, can’t forget the “Mold” porn. I’ve wanted to buy bricks and cinderblocks for the backyard. Making the house a prison? That’s how this existence feels. My personal Hell. See V, B Leaving

600 Days Without B III, Day 041 of Virgil’s Arrival

BLM Braxton’s Life Matters,
Will

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