Special

I woke up from a nightmare early the other morning.  I usually wake up around 3ish for a bathroom break, but that morning I wasn't so pleasantly awakened.  And I don't really remember the dream, but I remember the feeling of wishing it wasn't dream and praying that I would wake up soon to realize it was only a dream.  
I remember it was hard falling back asleep, I was afraid the dream would come back to show me an ending, a message I had failed to uncover, and ending which I would categorize itself as a nightmare once again, not a dream.
Since that night, I've been thinking a lot.  I wonder what causes nightmares...I mean, I could understand if maybe I had a bad day, or maybe I got in a fight with a friend and it hurt my feelings, or maybe, if I were to be stressed out about my work, my livelihood, or my future in general...oh...shiat...I guess I SHOULD be having nightmares then :)
I don't know why I have to worry so much.  I think it creates some sort of distance between me and the actual truth of what might be happening.  I had a yoga class yesterday and the teacher kept saying we are all more than our thoughts.  And to go deeper, we are NOT are thoughts.  We could be the opposite of what we think we are.  And then, in class, in between the thoughts of what I was gonna have for dinner and the question of whether or not I should eat at a restaurant or take out, (take out won), I kept thinking about my nightmare and how worried I get sometimes because of some core belief that I might be 'bad' or not worthy of things that I want...and THEN, after sushi and a lil sake, I got down and dirty into my narcissistic, yet potentially and hopefully unrealistic, wave length...


                       Special

I get so caught up with death and beyond.
I get so wrapped up with the thought
That my songs won’t infect or inspire.
My songs will be passed on with my body

And no one will get to sing with me
And no one will get to hear them
And no one will get to say
How great I was
How much they love my vibe
How much of a genius I was
How special I was in this world.

So, I don’t want to die before then.

And I’m ok with pain and suffering for my art
But I want to know that my dream will become
More than just a thought in my head
And I want to know that my honesty
Will not be punished with failure and poverty.


So there, I said it, I want to be special
So there, I also said, I want to be successful
I mean, who could say they wish to die
Without a house, a kid, or a plane?
I want the house,
The kid I could handle,
And I want the plane to fly whenever I desire.

I want the plane so I can live in the sky
And when I want to die, I will jump
And I will jump when I hear
Lots of people screaming from below.
All the people that are envious
All the people that loved my songs
Only then, when they say I am special, I will jump.

And they won’t catch me because they will be looking for the next special punk ass,
And they won’t catch me because I think they are actually me,
And then I wake up and pinch myself ...
I am still alive.

~Jenn