What power would hell have if those imprisoned here would not be able to dream of heaven? People think dreams aren't real just because they aren't made of matter, of particles. Dreams are real. But they are made of viewpoints, of images, of memories and puns and lost hopes. We have seen stranger things in dreams; and fictions are merely frozen dreams, linked images with some semblance of structure. They are not to be trusted, no more than the people who create them. If my dream was true, then everything we know, everything we think we know is a lie. When you dream, sometimes you remember. When you wake, you always forget. Somewhere in the night, entities bigger than storm-clouds are building a house of remembrance. The people on the ground are waiting for the building to be finished before they go inside. They wait awkwardly, shuffling and making small-talk, in the wasteland that was once the heart of the Dreaming. Everybody's here. You're here. But if enough of us dream, if a bare thousand of us dream, we can change the world. A world that we rule. My name is Peter William Lamb, a.k.a. Pete-Rock for those of you who really know me. I live for music and expressings myself through playing and writing music. Take away my music and I'll take away your life! I play many instruments, my favorite being the drums and guitar, but love trying to learn something new on any instrument. I have been known to do some partying...and when I say, "some" I really mean, "put it in front of me and whatever it was will be gone!"...sort of like a magic trick I guess? I live it up, everyday is a blessing that I'm still breathing and I am thankful for it. I should be dead but I won't argue my existance either, but until that time of expiration I will continue to be who I am at that moment and won't change or conform just to satisfy others, but stay true to myself and my beliefs. I am me, nothing more and nothing less, everything and nothing, just another voice in a world full of screams. Other than all of that, I'm a simple dude. I have tattoos, I read, I play video games, I write, I sleep when I can, I love Star Wars, I love Jagermeister, I love Pabst, I smoke cigarettes, I curse a lot, I can't live without cheeseburgers and french fries, I start fires, I break shit, I hate the cold, I despise the sun, I talk to myself sometimes, I miss my mom. I wish more than anything i could talk to her. I miss hearing her voice, seeing her face, embracing her love, listening to her voice, telling her I love her, being her son, keeping her company, hearing her laugh, making her happy, spending time with her, giving hugs, feeling comforted, enjoying life, and everything else we gave to each other. if you want to know more about me...fuck off. i have nothing to give.
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