I had a weird dream.

I was with a girlfriend or ex. It was nighttime and late.

I had previously starred in a major motion picture romance movie as one of the major characters, and I was apparently unaware of how it affected my life and its importance.

I was a celebrity, or close to it or was one before.

Plenty of people knew who I was.

I know all this because I said to my gf/ex, “I didn’t know that,” as we talked about it. “I never realized how big that all was.”

She laughs at me. “You didn’t know that?”

I’ve always been a little dense when it came to some social scenarios, but I didn’t think I was that dense.

I drove to some type of plaza with my gf/ex speeding to make sure I made it to the interview. The building almost looked like a carwash but that’s not what I was applying for.

Almost got a ticket but the officer said I can instead show up in the morning next weekend in place of a ticket and meet his friend. I was dreading it, because I’d probably be busy and it would interrupt my schedule.

I had a girlfriend or was on a date and a job interview that didn’t seem to be film related outside, but it could have been. I had a woman who seemed like a waiter, as there were tables and it was a big plaza. If not, perhaps some kind of secretary or just a kind person handing out the packet. It’s still nighttime, cool and beautiful out. It was our first time meeting. During the first few moments, she leans over and kisses me as I’m sitting there. My lips and head almost reach up to reach hers. She kisses me a few more times. Her lips against mine are soft and gentle and divine.  During the kiss, my heart jumpstarts with joy. So many words are said in the kiss alone. I’m left breathless as our lips part. It felt like we had already met, and I ask her if we ever met. She shakes her head, laughing, and says no. She waves me bye with a smile, but I have a feeling she’d come back and that I’d see her again.

The kiss and her felt 100% right and natural. She seemed perfect, a type of girl I have never met in real life outside the dream but one that seemed so real. She wore a polka dotted blouse/sundress, black with white spots. Fair white skin reminiscent of the character Snow White. Thick dark hair in a pony tail. Thin body. The girl is very feminine and cute, exuding a sweetness and care and a sense of being genuine like none I ever felt. Possibly drama theater or actress like. Her life is close to perfect, too. This was not the girl I arrived with.

Everything felt perfect. It was nighttime and it was the perfect temperature of cool out. I was applying for a job I really wanted. I was with a friend. A girl I really liked who already liked me back was there.

I complete the paper packet and there is a guy friend applying for the same job. We chit chat.

My ex or gf who was applying with me leaves as she completed the packet early.

A bomb in the distance goes off — like one dropped from a plane. There is a female announcer narrating it. Everyone gets in a car, and I don’t know which car to get into, even though I drove there in one.

At some point I’m about to leave and another bomb goes off, this one closer and bigger, a tower and bubble of molten lava exploding everywhere in the distance, bright yellow and orange. It’s the most terrifying sight imaginable, a symbol of a death and destruction that feels very real. As I see it, it stops me in my tracks, and I start running. It came dangerously close to killing us.

See that, folks?” The female announcer asked. “ANOTHER bomb went off.”

What the hell is going on?

I wake up.

I slept five hours, from ten to three. I had to write the dream down because it affected me so. It felt so real even though the aspects — being a celebrity from starring in a movie, meeting the perfect girl, applying for a job I wanted, having a close friend who just happened to be there, the bombs going off — were all so unreal and far away from my real life.

What the actual fuck…

The dream really affected me. It made me feel alive. A rollercoaster of emotions of happiness, curiosity, being scared, love and joy, companionship, and feeling fearful.

It makes real life feel unbelievably unsatisfying. I have been unsatisfied with the status quo for a while, but the dream and writing about it really brings it to the forefront.

The tasks I’ve been going through, such as browsing on social media, feel so petty and unsatisfying that it makes me sick, living a husk of a life.

For some reason, I had to search online to find some elements from the story. I found a close representation of what the dress looked like, the one the girl wore, the skirt part was shorter I think: http://m.lightinthebox.com/women-s-black-white-polka-dot-dress-vintage-halter-50s-rockabilly-swing-dress_p4599021.html?currency=USD&litb_from=paid_adwords_shopping&sku=1_45%7C39_300&utm_source=google_shopping&utm_medium=cpc&adword_mt=&adword_ct=153419674721&adword_kw=&adword_pos=1o9&adword_pl=&adword_net=s&adword_tar=&adw_src_id=8852481750_686628169_34026792223_pla-256173025805&gclid=CjwKEAjw_6XIBRCisIGIrJeQ93oSJAA2cNtMOR1_oYvuD5AmtiMyeshBJ78s6T39AxDvgU7bskUKkhoCrgPw_wcB

I’m kind of at a loss at what to do, what steps to take to get closer to a more genuine and fulfilling life that the dream made me feel. But I want to try.

I just want more. I’ve been giving myself less and letting myself get less. But I want more.

I think I’ve been trying to mask life or my emotions, or mask the lack of away, trying to fill it up and fill it up, and not stopping until it gets filled, never giving up, because that’s what I want. I want that fulfillment and realness and authenticity. And now I’ll try even harder for it.

Perhaps the bombs represent that it’s not reality, and that that life is being destroyed.

Perhaps the dream is telling me that that’s not reality or that I want too much of something that can’t exist.

Maybe I should be writing more again and write this story and see where it goes, though it’s crazy to imagine where the heck a story like this would go.

In any case, I want more. I’ve been aching for more.

I hope I can live a moment like that (minus the bombs).

The problem is, life feels fake and the dream feels real.