It's the weirdest thing ever. In the dream the story is really clear but as soon as I wake up I can't, for the life of me, remember any of it.
Only a few snippests and foggy aspects of it.


Okay so it goes like this; There's a lady in a small flat nestled in ghetto deep within London called Ruby Tates (this name I heard from a series called "Kitchen Nightmares")
She's kinda weird and sortof skanky, but in a non-dirty way (if that even makes sense).

And the story, which I can't recall to save my life, is something along the lines of she was left by her boyfriend, and she burned down her flat. But in the instant I'm there witnessing her, in her kitchen to be exact, (which had a black and white tiled floor) there's smouldering mounds of burn furnature and clothes mostly infront of the oven, and she tells me her story in a poem form and says this one phrase which I repeat over and over in the dream. I also see her using a shovel to keep the heat from dying out, tossing more things onto it. It never seems to burn though, just.....smoulder.

It's a weird almost creepy and scary situation, but in the dream I feel so comfortable there. The smouldering debris doesn't phase me and it's almost like it should be there. The flat itself is also extremely dark, all the cream curtains have been blackened from the smoke.

It's also weird how clear my mind is in the dream, it's an awesome feeling. Like as if I've let go of every worry and problem and feel light and free.

I don't know, it's weird. I kinda feel like the dream is promoting suicide.






BLUH I wonder if my dreams will ever be normal ._.