witty-remark's Diaryland Diary

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I've been evasively putting aside homework in lieu of watching people on Youtube dictate what a near death experience ensues.

Bright light, pure joy. From what I gather, it's the equivalent of having an orgasm under a spotlight. That's me in the spot...light...losing my drawers. And that's an oft forgotten lyric from REM's hit.

It all reminds me of this dream I had in my childhood which I still revisit in my mind. I'm standing behind a glass door in Brandy's house that looks out onto her balcony as this shred of light begins to develop. Spinning itself like spindles on a web made from delicate jewels. Daylight gradually turns to night and behind the glass, these beautiful slivers of crystals are taking shape. Pristine crystals that melt into liquid platinum and their drops just form more sparkling lights. I can't even begin to describe the degree of beauty I beheld before me; I don't think words exist to illustrate such a thing. Surely, they don't. It's like trying to explain glitter without using the word sparkle. Or maybe it isn't like that at all. But I do know that what I felt and saw in that one dream, dreamt up by the limitless imagination of my former self, were the purest forms of joy and beauty I have tasted in my life.

9:15 p.m. - Tuesday, Jan. 20, 2009

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