Twenty-Five years old.

Woke up too dawn early after a late night and decided to have a good day despite yet another ounce of sleep deprivation. I walked fifty blocks to get to breakfast, then walked home again, picking up a gift for my mother en route.

Firefly is mediocre science-fiction told fairly well. What's extraordinary about it, like only a handful of other series, is that it somehow made it onto television without being mercilessly purged of all quality. That it's shot well and some of the actors are decent helps.

After firefly, wings lent me a hand in a car switch that let me pull home just as my insurance expired.

Most of my birthdays leave me bland but twenty-five feels good. For the first time it's a milestone. I feel I've cast off some detrius; I'm wiser and more mature and I know I'm self-relaint and can ad-lib my way through life on my own feet. I've also learned how to get help. Furthermore, perhaps more importantly, I realize that "U2" is a pun and not some obscure German WWII reference.

I had a dream about this...

...A wood-paneled desk, my boots off, a phone, that tone, that-state-of place. I woke up after a dream just like this but now I'm sitting here and phoning and it's real.
                                                                                            now that I have boots, I can kick them off

It feels just like deja vu. I guess that means it is. But do I really rememeber the reverse or a few lackadaisical neurons spouting off at the wrong time, making me feel I've remembered?

And If it was true, then why at that time? And if it isn't, what set it off?

I keep remembring like this, flashes of forgotten foresight, suddenly remembered post-priori.
          Bullshit                                   I can only tell you what I remember

Sleeping and dreaming.

Now and then, I realize that I'm not in high school anymore and that person's dead and so this must be a dream. Usually, I just screw around in one way or another, chase a fantasy or two, usually attain nothing but slow frustration, fearing pushing things to the point of dissoluton and waking. Over the years, I've been able to stay under longer. But then I had a great idea. Why don't I try to see what I can do, not in the bending reality sense but in the sense of really exploring dreams and where they go.

         Lucid dreamers say that you should practice asking yourself "am I dreaming?"

No success so far.                                                                  I'm almost afraid to write this.

          What can I do?