h8

Another nightmare.
Me and this girl I barely know (Michelle Kilmer?) were in this man's apartment. Everything he owned was white, except for the green burnt out candles he had everywhere. They were like dinner candles, and it was all very clean. Each one had its own candleholder. I'm not sure why we were there, but I remember him taking a sewing needle and putting it in the candle's flame, and as soon as he did that it went out. He had some of the liquid molten wax on the needle, and apparently it had become poison by some rite of black magic.
I was freaking out and told the girl we had to leave immediately, and before he could realize what we were doing, we quick stuck him with one of his own needles and got out of there as soon as possible. It was strange, because there was a weird obstruction in the doorway-- like he knew we were going to think of escaping. After a nimble feat of jumping over it and through the small opening without tripping, we got into the closest car. It was a convertible.
At this point it was just a weird frantic driving through Gibbsboro (my suburban town), not sure where to go or what to do or who to tell. We found ourselves in a wooded area only a couple of blocks away from where the man was, and I had to stop the car because weird shit was happening.
She kept saying, "Can you feel it? Can you feel it?" And I didn't understand until, yes, I felt it. We had both been poisoned by the man. I don't know how. But as it set in, it was essentially a hallucinogenic. I wanted to be able to function so badly and wanted to resist because I knew we were going to be killed. But it was very powerful and I had no idea how to drive the car because nothing made sense. Automatic shift made no sense and I kept closing my eyes and saw voids of shapes. I tried smoking a cigarette in hopes that it could help me think a little more soberly, but as the plumes of smoke rose and I looked at them, they stayed frozen in the air as if time had stopped. We were fucked.
The man finally had found us at this point, and I locked the doors. That did a whole lot of nothing because it was a convertible.
I knew we were going to be killed, and I cried, "Why do you want to kill us?"
And then... he started saying something about how he was against the death sentence. The Death Sentence shouldn't exist, but since it does, then it should be applied to every illegal act.
So, I had done something illegal and must die for it.
That's how the dream ended.

I couldn't stop thinking about this all day.

I feel like I have no control right now. I can't do my project for Tim. I can't draw. I hate myself and I want to go live in San Francisco. I want to pet my dog but I can't leave till I draw something useful. I can't stop thinking about certain things that I should be completely over and done with and forgotten but I can't.
I am a constant disappointment to myself.