And the days go on and on.

Ah, winter, we meet again. Why won't you go away? I miss the flowers terribly.
So, I'm pretty mad at myself, and whatever forces control the flow of creativity that I sometimes drown in-oooh, poetic. For many a day now, the waters have ebbed. It isn't fair. I found a puddle yesterday, and splashed my feet in it, and drew a robot elf in an alley with a litter of abandoned kittens. I liked it all but the background. But when I came around this morning, waking from a wretched dream, I found the water had dried and I was again left thirsty. Julie asked me to draw her. I said I would have it ready by today, but I accidentally on purpose messed it up to buy me some more time. Turns out Julie was away today. Oh well. I wouldn't have felt right giving her a drawing I don't feel I've done my best at. She is my friend, after all. But it's like having to give someone a drink, when the metaphorical well is dry. But I told Julie it would be done, so I am obligated.
I think I caught something off of the Pit floor, because after lunch my throat became itchy, and now it as sore as anything. Probably just dry, I haven't had a lot to drink today.
I'm terribly tired. Allow me to tell you why. Whenever I sleep, I have a dream. They are all different, but they have some key players. It takes place at the school, and a whole bunch of crazy stuff happens. Things I can hear, see, touch, even taste. And it's so realistic. The dream I had last night, I was smacked in the face, and I could taste the blood in my mouth. I pushed someone, and felt their body resist against my hands, and then give way to gravity and felt the vibrating thud in my feet as they landed on the floor. These dreams are usually fairly violent, but they always end up with me having a conversation with someone who I cannot see, just a voice as I stand in the Pit, sometimes the theatre, always alone. A familiar voice. It's eerie.

Me: Hello?
Voice: School's out. You should go home.
Me: Where is everyone?
Voice: Everyone is gone.
Me: No, they aren't. They were here a minute ago.
Voice: Yes, they are. You hit one of them.
Me: No I didn't...no..wait. I did hit one of them.
Voice: Why did you hit them?
Me: Because I was mad at them.
Voice: Why do you refer to them as "them"?
Me: Um.
Voice: Are you afraid to tell me who?
Me: A little.
Voice: I already saw. Why were you mad?
Me: You ask a lot of questions.
Voice: So do you.
Me: Why did they leave?
Voice: School is over. Everyone went home.
Me: It's only lunchtime. I bet they're in the hallway.
Voice: You could look there, but you wouldn't see anyone.
Me: Not even the band geeks?
Voice: Not even the band geeks.
Me: What would I see?
Voice: You would see a figure in a black cloak with no face, coming towards you, floating above the ground.
Me: Be quiet! Stop stop stop!
Voice: Does that scare you?
Me: Yes!
Voice: Sit down.
*Here I sit, whether on a couch or in the Happy Hidey Hole.*
Voice: That scares you a lot.
Me: Yes, it scares me a lot.
Voice: I knew that.
Me: What scares you?
Voice: I'm a disembodied voice. Nothing scares me.
Me: Are you a ghost?
Voice: Kind of. Scared?
Me: No. You don't scare me.
Voice: I should.
Me: What the Hell is that supposed to mean?
Voice: I know quite a bit about you. You probably wish I didn't.
Me: I wish a lot of things.
Voice: What?
Me: I wish I knew where everyone was.
Voice: School's over, they all went home.
Me: No, it's lunch. They were here a minute ago.
Voice: You scared them away.
Me: No, I didn't!
Voice: You did. You hit them. You pushed them.
Me: One of them smacked me.
Voice: After you pushed them.
Me: They started it.
Voice: How childish.
Me: I'm childish.
Voice: Why did you push them?
Me: They were in my way.
Voice: Where were you going?
Me: Away. Far away.
Voice: Did it hurt when they smacked you?
Me: Yes.
Voice: Would it have hurt less if it was someone else? Not them?
Me: Yes.
Voice: I know who "them" is.
Me: You aren't going to tell anyone, are you?
Voice: I don't talk to anyone else.
Me: Of course you don't.
*Footsteps, either in the Pit or theatre, wherever I'm not.*
Voice: It's them.
Me: It's them.
Voice: You should go talk to them.
Me: They don't like me very much.
Voice: There's only one of them.
Me: It's the them I hit. The them I pushed.
Voice: The them who smacked you.
Me: Yeah.
*They say my name.*
Voice: They're looking for you.
Me: They want to smack me again.
Voice: Probably. You're annoying.
Me: What?
Voice: You're really pathetic.
Me: Get lost.
Voice: I'm protecting you from them.
Me: Where were you when I was getting smacked?
Voice: Watching.
Me: I told you they didn't go home.
Voice: They'll leave soon.
Me: I hate you.
Voice: I don't hate you.
Me: Well, I hate me then.
Voice: That's not true.
Me: Says you.
Voice: Why do you hate you?
Me: Meh. They've gone.
Voice: Didn't you want them to stay?
Me: Yes.
Voice: Why?
Me: I don't know.
Voice: Did you want to appologize?
Me: No.
Voice: What did you want to do?
Me: I just wanted to look at them. Quietly. Not disturbing them.
Voice: That's creepy.
Me: Yeah.
Voice: You're really pretty.
Me: That's creepier.
Voice: No, really. You have nice hair. You should wear it down.
Me: Nah. On a bet.
Voice: You still play with ponies?
Me: Mmmhmm.
Voice: What are their names?
Me: Marlog and Cfsial.
Voice: Those are stupid names.
Me: What's your name?
*A pause. I feel hands around my neck, and I can't breathe.*
Voice: School's out. Everyone has gone home.

I remember it in such vivid detail, because I just had it again not ten minutes ago. Lucky me. All that occurs at the end of my dream, whatever that may be. Even if I've only slept fifteen minutes, it happens. Good God am I ever tired. I don't feel rested at all.