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I had a feminist depression dream

 I was going to received an award, finally get the recognition I deserve. I put on a dress. I was excited. I congregated in an area with others as speeches were made during a ceremony.  A woman, almost my doppelganger, asked me if I was wearing underwear and shorts beneath my dress. I immediately felt shame - but also anger. I felt cut down to size in half a second. Within the dream I became indignant. My mother was there. She was enraged with me. The woman kept asking me about my underthings. It felt like harassment. I hadn't written my speech yet. I was unprepared, as usual. I asked (!) if I could include the story of the woman in the speech. I was told it wouldn't be a good idea. I was told my women and (get this) a man I didn't even know. Why was he even there?
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I have this theory

 You know how you look at a picture and it makes you feel something that you can't put your finger on? It happens when you're a kid. Of course you can't put your finger on it. You haven't yet begun to live. You don't have the vocabulary to articulate your feelings. As you get older you see a picture, have an experience, whatever, and it makes you think of something. You can't quite place it. Is it awe? Is it familiarity? We've experienced everything before, and we will experience it again. We will keep forgetting and forgetting. We do this literally in our own lifetime but also in the lives lived before this one and those after. Not quite reincarnation but maybe exactly that. It's like a VHS cassette. It's like mimeograph. Or those soft words in the background. Do you know what I am saying, even a little bit?
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Subjective

What I mean also is that everything is subjective. Through a certain lens, the world is bad. There is beauty in the world. It exists together. Shall I make a list of opposite adjectives? You can find them in a book. Are you filled with sadness, mostly? Or joy? What is your lens like? I am saying to B* that I miss the young us in a bar. I don't wish to be young I am saying. I am not pining for youth. I just miss it. It wasn't pure or perfect. There was just a certain quality. My now-lens gives me a different view. Someone was asking me, wouldn't you want to die in your sleep? I said no. Everyone has an idea of a good way to die. It's not the same for all of us. 
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The World Is Bad

The world is bad. It has always been. The places to write are plenty and also do not exist. This is my place to write dumb things. There are many places to write dumb things, read dumb things, view dumb things. We open our eyes and take it in, the bad medicine. We feel bad. We cannot sleep. We? I mean me. Possibly you. Will you confirm? I am tired of reading the dumb things. Scroll, scroll. I want to write more drivel. I don't want to be pretty or make money. I don't have anything to sell. I have everything I need. I want you to have everything you need.
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