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Showing posts from October, 2015

I Dream of Pasta: The Beautiful Girl

She is so beautiful. Oh how I can't wait to see her again... I dream of her every night. Those blue mesmerizing eyes. The long brown hair that goes past her sturdy, but oh so delicate shoulders. I can't help thinking about her. Imagining her along side me gives me oh so much inspiration. I remember the first time I met her at school. This year actually. First semester, first q uarter. It was in chemistry class. Funny story, actually. We sat next to each other. She was the class ace, and I was the slacker. I would try to act all cool like around her, and she thought I was stupid, and all that. Well I eventually dropped out of that class for failing the next semester, but she was switching classes anyways. At that time my heart went out for her. The uncontrollable love has taken over me once again. Well She had two classes with me in the second semester: P.E., and Art class. I would mess around in class, and try to make her laugh. She eventually started to hate

I Dream of Pasta: Christmas

I could never sleep well in hotels. I guess that’s somewhat of an understatement; I could never sleep well in general, but hotels were the worst. Just the thought that the previous occupant of this bed is a complete stranger was repulsive in my mind, but that’s beside the point. What I’m getting at is how this lack of sleep in hotels changed my life. Christmas, we were spending Christmas in a shitty hotel and not with family, great. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like I didn’t enjoy the all you can eat buffet of soggy hash browns and grits for Christmas Eve dinner. Of course the first snow of the season had to cancel our flight down to Virginia. It was Christmas Eve and I was trying to sleep in this bleach saturated room; my minds wandering, wondering what happened in here to cause such an excessive amount of bleach needed. The room was nothing out of the ordinary: two beds, one for me and my dad and another for my sister and mom, a bathroom, and a stained microwa

I Dream of Pasta: Backbones

Sleep. We all sleep. And dream. We all dream. If we think we don't (even on certain nights), we are mistaken. Every human dreams. Each person enters the REM state almost five to six times during a night. Rapid Eye Movement. Our eyes start moving rapidly back and forth during these stages. Aptly named, isn't it? These rapid movements are the movements of our eyes in our dreams. In whichever direction we look in the dreams, our eyeballs rotate to that direction beneath the eyelids. Now, let us talk about dreams for a while. Not stupid rotating eyeballs, but the real stuff. People say our brain indexes our daily memories during dreams. Our daily memories are re-arranged and stuffed in for later use. But what exactly are dreams? We spend our days waking. We all learn during our waking lives. We memorize new facts, new talents, new changes, all while awake. So why do we need to go all unconscious to "actually" learn or memorize these? We have already

I Dream of Pasta: The Colors

   It's been awhile since I saw it. A seizure causing flashing light to most, but a rainbow to me. It was mystifying. I thought it was anyways. I now see that I was blinded by youthful hope and happiness... It all started out two years ago. I was a huge anime fan and I had seen the banned episode of Pokèmon with the Porygon caused seizures hundreds of times. I also had an unreasonable at traction to short stories on the internet, Creepypastas, I believe they were called. They gave me nightmares, but I loved them. I couldn't stop reading them. It must've been my youthful mind telling me to scare myself into not sleeping, I guess. Anyways, it was my Freshman year of high school, and being that I barely knew anyone, I started hanging out with one of my old friends that ended up in a few of my classes. Over the years, he became a "raver" and a so-called "emo." That's a label that always confused me. Emo. There was Emo, Goth, Suicidal, and

I Dream of Pasta: Clover

I lived in a not very well known city since it never had that many interesting events nor was it the prettiest or the city that had the best restaurants so it was as I said not very popular. In this city I lived with my husband and everything seemed to be going perfectly. Well everything was going perfectly. The only problem at that time was I thought we lived to far from everyone since we were at least 200 ft away from our first neighbor but besides that everything was great. One day we were thinking of the idea of a pet or a child we knew we weren't going to get ether for a while but we were just thinking about it. We didn't have enough money to support ether of those so we decided to wait on both. The day when I first saw her he went to work first since I had to work a night shift and he had to work at the office during the afternoon so I would have to walk to work since he took the car. It was around 5:30 P.M. when I left to go to work. It was oddly foggy o

I Dream of Pasta: The Artist

I can see her there. Quiet. Peaceful. Unsuspecting. Sleeping. Perfect. I slowly climb a little more, my feet deft and my hands gripping tightly on the window ledge. It isn’t a particularly pretty night; the rain is coming down in buckets, drenching me in her cold content, as if she thinks what I plan is disgraceful, and she calls up storm to put me off. As if a little bad weather will stop me from doing what I need to do. I decide to stop putting the deed off, and decide to finally try and get inside the cosy little room. I dig my nails into the wooden frame of the window, slowly lifting, the rain still growling at me.    She thinks too inside the box. She doesn’t anything I do. As if my art isn’t any good. My methods are innovative, unique, and of course, excellent in my execution of my piece. I see no possible way it could go wrong, but still she growls, swiping through the air with her bright, blinding whip, trying to intimidate me, put me off of my wonderf

I Dream of Pasta: The Beautiful Siren

Idea contributed by a close friend, who asked if she could stay anonymous in the making of this Creepypasta. Editing, posting and writing of the Creepypasta is contributed by sleepylullaby141. It was midnight. The lunar light from the moon gleamed on my bed sheets, sparkling through the window. I started to uncover the soft, warm blankets when I heard what sounded like shuffl ing coming from behind me. I turned around but nothing was in my sight. I continued to crawl under my bed sheets, warming up with the fabric of it all. As if on cue, I immediately fell into a deep slumber, where I found myself having a dream. Behold and below was a figure of pure beauty. I saw a young woman, a few years younger than me by her looks of it, with long, flowing bright blonde hair falling around her back and shoulders perfectly. The body that contained this image who was quite frail and fragile looking, a small, skinny, short figure covered in an oddly torn dress reaching her mid-th

I Dream of Pasta: Beneath the Bed

I was lying in the bed one night, many moons ago. When I felt the rise and fall of breathing, a different rhythm than my own. It thrilled me, chilled me, scared me, struck a frightening tone. For 'neath this bed was a corpse, that was only skin and bones.

I Dream of Pasta: A Child's Nightmare

Somewhere in Columbus, Ohio there lived a young boy. Josh was always a normal child, always doing normal things. At least, that's what it looked like from the outside. Inside Josh always felt alone, his father was a cocaine addict and his mother not too bright. Keeping to himself in his room and playing with the many toys they bought to occupy him with, it always felt so empty. That's when Josh had wished for a friend. When Josh was 6, he spent most of the time in the bathroom, playing with the water, or in his room, playing with his toys. One day a large mirror on the inside of the bathroom door caught his attention. It was himself, he knew that. He always knew that but there was something about him that was different. His appearance didn't move and smile like he did. The mirror was a long mirror, about half the size of the door and could easily show his full stature. It was the middle of the afternoon, his mother was sleeping and his father was at wor

I Dream of Pasta: Clowny

My name is Donna and I am 17 years old, turning 18 in November 2012. I am homeless and have no job. I'm using a public free Wi-Fi connection to write this. I don't go to school any more, but I used to go to a well-known girls only school in Melbourne in Australia. I used to be popular when I went to school, but I have no friends left. My boyfriend left me. My family was murdered. All I wa nt to do is share my story with you. I'm not looking for sympathy, as it won't get me anywhere. It all started when two years ago, when I was 15 and about to turn 16. My life was never perfect, but I was happy and that's all that mattered. I had a lot of good friends and a boyfriend, who I really liked at the time. I got a missed call one day, from a private number while I was in school. Of course, I didn't think much of it at the time. I didn't know about Clowny or Clownface or whatever he's called, so I just ignored it. Besides, I was in class and t

I Dream of Pasta: Dream

As I woke up, I felt nauseous. My head filled with blurry visions of my nightmare. As I got up, my eyes were heavy. I forced myself downstairs. I walked into the kitchen, to the coffee pot and began pouring the coffee. I walked to the living room, and began to watch T.V. My mind still half asleep, I dozed off. I remember getting awaken to the sound of glass breaking. It sounded like it cam e from the kitchen. I got up and walked to the kitchen, not knowing what to except. I looked up at the ceiling and noticed the light bulb was broken. It was flickering on and off. I looked back down and I remember suddenly not being able to move. Standing there was a clown. It's eyes were pitch black. It looked distorted. It's arms went down to the ground. It had to be at least 7 feet tall. It was extraordinarily thin I might add. It's costume and hat looked very worn. It's skin was torn and looked as if it had been stretched, and tinted a light shade of grey. It ap

I Dream of Pasta: Eyes Cannot Open

I'll first state that in nearly every dream I have, I am more than capable of simply opening my eyes at any time during the dream, and force myself awake. I rarely do this, but when I do, the results are instant and usually satisfactory. I'll also explain the term, "False Awakening". This is when you wake up from a single dream, into another dream. This can be confusing. Now, as my nightmare began, I was inside of a school, and had just left it. My... My boyfriend was with me, and we were walking and joking around. This was actually nice. We proceeded apace, and the school began to disappear, us being in a different setting. This being a dream, and in fact, a dream that I believe was lucid, I could easily handle this. What I could not handle was what soon happened after. While I was in the new setting, which was simply a suburban town, my boyfriend ceased to exist and I simply walked along, being oblivious to his absence. This was intentional, but

I Dream of Pasta: My Latest Subject

"Do you feel safe in your house? Does your house have secure doors and windows? Do you trust your neighbors, if you even have any?" I ask these questions, but I already know the answers. I know so much about you. I know how you tick, I know how you tock. I know what makes you happy, I know what makes you angry, and I know what makes you afraid. I have been watching you since you were just a young one; my how’ve you grown. You used to be afraid, when you were just a little one. You hated going to sleep unless you’re nightlight was on. No matter, I will just hide in the shadows that you’re bright wall casts. I am quiet. I am still. Oops, was that creek on the wall a bit loud, just blame it on the house settling or mice and fall asleep. You got older, started to believe less and less in me. You always had a scientific answer for the creeks and the warps; they were the pipes and the air conditioning. That’s perfectly okay with me. I don’t gain or lose power due to

I Dream of Pasta: Coincidence

NOTICE: This story happened to a friend, not me. This is written in her point of view. I remember when I was eleven I had just fallen asleep to have a very strange dream… My mom was walking down Aisle 8 in Wal-Mart, talking on her cell phone. I was watching her from the end of the aisle. Suddenly, a man was heard running down the store. His shoes could be heard screeching to a stop at the end of the aisle mom was walking down. He looked terrifying, like a nervous psycho, running from the police. He took out a pistol and pointed it at my mom, then yelled, “If you take one step closer, I shoot!” They couldn’t see her, and thought he was just bluffing. But to be sure, they called backup to go to the end and check the aisle. Mom was crying so hard. The burglar thought they called the police, and shot her. From the cell phone she had, I could hear crying and yelling. I woke up crying and sweating. It was extremely late, as I went to bed at about 3:00 am. I looked at the cl

I Dream of Pasta: Data Is Watching

I woke up in my room. Alone. This was another day of the daily grind, but this time, when I walked out of my bedroom, things were a little different. This hallway was clearly a hallway, but not my hallway. I went back into my room, and checked everything that I knew about my room that nobody else would, like the chip in my bed frame or the small peeling area of my wallpaper. Ever ything was exactly the same. So, I walk into the hallway again, and I noticed that it changed a little bit, but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what changed. So, as I walked forward, I heard a small whisper. It stated something about watching, but I didn’t completely hear it. Anyway, I continued on into the hallway, which made me a small bit disoriented. Afterward, I heard another voice. “Feeling dizzy, are you?” it asked. In reply, I yelled for it to, whatever it was, let me back into my own house. In response to my command, it disobeys and shuts the hallway behind me. I start running, to

I Dream of Pasta: Familiar Visitor

This is OC from a personal experience. Hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy sharing it, it's one of those things that changed the way I handle whatever life throws my way. ~Volkoronado My parents divorced when I was young and I was left to live with my mother and my sisters, so I looked up to my grandfather as a male role model ever since. Sadly, he passed away when I was 6 or so, so I didn't really have a chance to talk about life with him. However, he taught me a valuable lesson through his stories. As far as I know, he was horned by a bull, a train rammed his truck (which left him with more than 100 stitches all over his body), he fell to the sea on a fishing trip, got lost and was presumed dead before washing ashore 2 days later, he survived 2 types of cancer (the 3rd he didn't, however) and many other accidents accounted for in pictures, newspaper articles and the tales of my grandmother and her children (my mom included). The day he passed a

I Dream of Pasta: It's Just a Rumor... Right?

There was once an old mansion 2 blocks away from my apartment that I use to live in back in San Francisco. Nobody had ever lived in that mansion ever since I can remember. It was still around before I was born. I was around 6 or 7 when I heard that it was haunted but was never really interested in spirits or dark entities at that age. Yet, I was curious to whether it w as true or not. Everyday I would walk by that mansion for about a year or so (Of course, I wouldn't just nilly-willy walk by that mansion without a legitimate reason. I'd walk by to go to the store and other places). Day and night, alone and with company; I hadn't experienced anything strange. I was still skeptic and by that time of age, I had gotten interested in the paranormal. Though I've wondered why it was never demolished as I got older. As days go by, my dreams were becoming irrational. I kept seeing myself and people murdering other people; friends, families, strangers. There wa

I Dream of Pasta: Recurring

A crushing, burning pain spread outwards from my chest as the glimmering stars above me slowly faded into oblivion. I could feel my slowing heart pounding in my ringing ears, and knew that I was dying slowly, painfully. I tried to scream as the darkness folded in, but no air came out. The last thing I saw was shadowy figures creeping back into the dissolving night, leaving me to die. The pain bega n to fade and I felt myself slide backwards down and down and down into an endless black pit… I woke up with a start, gasping for air. The bright colors of morning swirled around my vision as I staggered out of my tent, retching. Another dream. Every night I’ve been out in the wilderness has been the same; visions in the night in which I meet my death, only to wake up the next day disoriented and sick. Only indistinct memories tell me that it’s always the same, always the same dream, night after night as I wander the outback: a dark man, a fire, a tree, and something that swings