[Day #11]

I was forced to do porno. The man who was forcing me to do this was also the camera man and the one who I had to do it with. He was over ten feet tall. I was picked up by my legs, hung upside-down and brought into a different room. Naked and being recorded for the public. I was starting to lose myself. I started to forget who I was. Brainwashed. My memory was losing. Upside-down six feet off the floor with something wet on my face.

A hitman, short cut salt and pepper hair, tight black shirt, dark blue jeans, he sat behind a wooden desk. There were other people in the room but I don't remember them. I held his handmade black cross bow that would tear you into ribbons if you accidentally scrape yourself on it. I made a deal with him.

Poison. I was poisoned. Blood dripped from my nose to the mask I had worn. Typically, I never have blood in my dreams, there has been scattered body parts, organs, but never blood. The giant smoothly turned into Albert over the time. My head was pounding, my brain was swelling. I crawled to the nearest person and suffocated the bastard. I strangled to death and hit everyone in the room and they didn't come near me. I didn't hit Albert though, as much as I hated him, I left him alone. I wiped the blood from my nose and walked out of the building. My sister was curled into a ball face down on the grass just outside the building. Surrounded by sticky notes that had been scattered across the grass, I had written explaining to her to get help because this and this person were doing this so this would happen. A very short man in a green trench coat and a dark blue hat stood with his two muscle men, pointing and gaping at my sister. I ran over to her and we both took off running.

I ended up in a car, my sister and I sat in the backseat, three other men were shouting at each other about how I have to get to the hospital right now. I think my head was going to explode.

My neck is strained in all directions. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move. At least I got some sleep tonight, even though it is freezing cold.

Mark and I went to go get breakfast at the fancy restaurant the train had. We sat with Scott and his friend. I didn't finish my expensive bacon so Scott asked for it. He looks like the exact replica of Corey Taylor, the only difference is that the anatomy was a little off, he was skinny and his voice. Other than that they were exactly the same, even they way he acts. Nails were the same shape, face was similar but his was rougher. He gave me the impression that he's been in a lot of fights. He dresses professionally, but I see through all of it. I left a tip of two bucks for my ten dollar meal. Usually I don't tip more than a dollar because I have a secret hatred for waiters and waitresses, mainly waitresses.

Expensive bacon. My heart chakra didn't want it. It held the thing in place and threaten to choke me. It took a good minute for it to go down. I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

The meditations have regain my abilities to recall my dreams.

Azura, the guy with the dreadlocks, got off in Sacramento. Mark was out there saying goodbye to him. Laziness held me from going out to say my goodbyes to him too. As everyone re-boarded the train, Azura took out his camera phone and recorded the train leaving, he waved at us and the train, he smiled the whole damn time. My insides were cramping up. Damn him.

I'm in Emeryville now. I have to take another train to get to San Jose. I am feeling like how I was before I left for Chicago. It is hard to be pleasant. I snapped at a man, I didn't mean to, it just happened. Claustrophobic. Easily annoyed, easily irritated, fatigue with an undertone of depression.

I'm in San Jose. It's dark outside. There's a pole that's talking, alarming people to be on guard. My head is heavy from the headache.