Dear Dreambook: Something followed us into the bathroom tonight…

Did You Hear That, Did You See That?

My Pastel Goth Life

Did You Hear That, Did You See That?

Dear Dreambook, something followed us into the bathroom tonight…

Date: ✧ Sept 2007 ✧

Diary Entry

Dear Dreambook, Astral and I still can’t explain this one. We were both in the bathroom getting ready to go somewhere. The house was quiet, no music, no TV, just the little hum of the fan and our makeup cluttered by the sink. I was closer to the door. Astral was staring into the mirror. All of a sudden, I heard footsteps in the hallway. Not just creaking—actual steps. Slow, like someone walking right up to the bathroom door and stopping. At that exact same moment, Astral’s whole face changed. Her eyes went wide, like she’d just seen something behind us in the mirror. Without even thinking, I said, “Did you hear that?” And at the same time, she said, “Did you see that?” We both froze. We were alone in the house. HOW IS THAT POSSIBLE, DREAMBOOK?

I don’t understand reality anymore, and maybe I shouldn’t,
✦ Luna ✦

DreamBook: What Am I Capable Of?

💔

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 💕

Dear DreamBook- My Pastel Goth Life – Entry #30

I think I have powers no one understands… and sometimes I don’t even understand them either.

Yesterday I got really angry. Not dramatic-angry, just that quiet kind where your chest feels tight and your eyes burn and you don’t know if you want to cry or scream.

I remember clenching my fists, nails digging into my palms, and then…something flew across the room!

I didn’t touch it. I didn’t even move. It was just there, on my shelf one second… and then smashing against the wall the next, like it had been yanked by invisible strings.

For a moment everything went silent, even my thoughts. The air felt heavy and electric, like the pause before a thunderstorm. My hands were buzzing, almost numb. I stared at them for a long time, pink nail polish chipped and a little smudge of eyeliner on my knuckle, like they were someone else’s hands.

What are my hands capable of?

What am I capable of?

If this is real, then I’m more than just the “weird girl” people whisper about. And that’s exciting… but it also scares me. Because if I can do this when I’m angry, what happens if I completely lose control?

xo, 🖤 I don’t know whether this is a blessing or a curse, 🖤

– Me <3

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

☮

☯

💔💗

xoxo

friends forever ✨

Rest Assured, I Was Never Truly Alone

The One Thing That Never Left Me

I didn’t choose art because it was easy. I didn’t come to it because someone told me I had talent, or because I thought it would bring me success. I came to art because, in a world that often felt unpredictable and unstable, art was the one thing that never turned its back on me.

I’ve known abandonment, early, deeply. People I trusted left. Places I thought were safe weren’t. And somewhere in the middle of all that loss, something inside me reached for creation.

Art was there before I had words for my pain. Before I could explain what I was feeling, I was drawing it, painting it, expressing it in color and form when language failed me. And that has never changed. No matter how lost I’ve felt, I’ve always known how to find myself again when I put my hands to the work.

Someone once said (though I don’t know who, and I wish I did, because they deserve credit), “The artist’s life didn’t choose you, you were recruited.” And I believe that’s true. Art came for me. It found me. It gave me a role, a voice, a reason to keep showing up. I didn’t stumble into this life, I was called into it. Not by glamor or ambition, but by necessity. Art became my survival.

Even when everything else felt uncertain, art remained. Not as an escape, but as a home. A place where I could lay it all down: grief, rage, tenderness, longing, and not be judged for any of it. A place where I could make meaning from things that felt meaningless.

I don’t need to be perfect. I don’t need fame or applause. I just need this truth: art has never abandoned me, and I will never abandon it.

Because no matter what the world takes away, I will always have this, the sacred act of creating. And in that, I am never truly alone.

My Pastel Goth Life - DreamBook - I Need Advice - LyssaGal Studio

Dear Dreambook: I Need Advice

Journal Entry

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~ What Are Friends Anyway? ~

Dear Diary,
So I talked to James online again today. He lives in the UK which is like… so far away but whatever, time zones don’t matter when you’re talking to someone who actually gets you, you know? We stayed up until like 3am my time talking about everything, music, movies, how much we both hate our schools. He sent me this mp3 of a band I’ve never heard of and it’s SO good. I wish he lived here. Or I wish I lived there. Anywhere but here basically.
But then something really weird and stupid happened with Lynn and now I’m just… I don’t even know.

I thought Lynn was my friend? Like my actual friend. And I thought that’s what friends did, they shared their other friends. That’s how you make MORE friends, right?? So I was looking at her AIM profile (which she posts publicly for everyone to see btw) and I saw she had this list of screennames of people she knows. So I added a couple of them because I figured if they’re Lynn’s friends, maybe they’d be cool to talk to too?

Well APPARENTLY that was like… the worst thing ever???

She got SO mad at me. She sent me this message being like “why are you adding MY friends, that’s so weird, I didn’t say you could talk to them.” And I’m just like… what? They were on your PUBLIC PROFILE. You literally posted them for everyone to see. How was I supposed to know that was off limits?

I don’t understand friend dynamics at all. Like seriously, someone needs to give me a manual or something because I keep getting stuff wrong and I don’t even know what I did.

Is it really that weird to add people your friends know? I thought that was normal. I thought that’s how social circles worked. But now Lynn is being all cold to me and I feel like I did something horrible but I don’t even understand WHAT.

Maybe I’m just not good at this whole… people thing. Maybe that’s why talking to James feels easier. We’re just online. There’s no unspoken rules I’m breaking because I don’t know they exist.

Whatever. I’m tired of trying to figure out what I did wrong all the time.

Going to bed now. Maybe tomorrow will make more sense.

~ Your Confused Goth, Luna ~

Current AIM away message:

“in a world of locked doors, the man with the key is king… or whatever” ~

Blog Tired Goth Life

Dear Dreambook: I Think The Universe Talks To Me

Dear Dreambook,

Sometimes when I’m sitting in my room, I feel like the walls are alive. The painted handprints scattered across them look like constellations left by people who touched the stars before me. Above me, the striped ceiling folds like ribbons of night sky, and I wonder if the universe likes to decorate itself the way I do.

My purple camera rests warm in my hands. It doesn’t feel like just a camera—it feels like a gift. Every time I press the shutter, I think the stars slip a secret into the lens. I don’t just capture a picture. I hold something infinite.

I stack my books beside me—astrology, palm reading, astral travel, magic. They’re maps to invisible worlds, guides for the parts of me that want to wander beyond the ordinary. But the camera? It’s my telescope. My net for catching stardust.

Tonight, I looked at the sky again. The sunset burned pink and orange, then cooled into blue scattered with gold. It felt like the stars were practicing their art, brushing color across the horizon just for me. I raised my camera, clicked, and breathed.

Maybe the stars just want me to remember. That even on the days I feel small, the universe is close enough to fit in my hands.

And I believe it. Because when I look through my camera, I’m not only saving a moment. I’m holding the universe safe inside it, where it will never leave me.

xoxo, me

The Squirrels Secret - Pastel Goth Life - LyssaGal - Dear Dreambook

Dear DreamBook Entry :) The Squirrel’s Secret

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°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 💕

Dear Dreambook: My Brother, Orion

Dear Dreambook

My Brother, Orion

This afternoon Orion stood under the big oak tree, gazing up at a squirrel. At first I thought he was only daydreaming, but then he whispered, “He’s nervous about winter coming.”

Orion said the squirrel told him the cold always makes him worry, so he’s been harvesting leaves, tucking them away, hoping his nest will be warm enough. I didn’t hear a thing, just the usual chittering sounds. But Orion’s face was so serious, like he truly felt the little creature’s fears.

The strangest part was that the squirrel didn’t run. Usually they dart away the second you look at them, but this one stayed, tail flicking like a secret signal, as if it knew Orion understood.

Sometimes I wonder if the stars gave Orion a gift, the way they gave Astral her dreams of the cosmos. Orion hears the voices of the earth, Astral listens to the sky, and me… I think my gift lives in my hands, shaping color and line into art.

Maybe the universe speaks to each of us differently. Orion hears it. Astral dreams it. And I create it.

🖤 I think I heard the squirrel talking to me too (Shh!) 🖤

– Me <3

xoxo

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

☮

☯

💔💗

xoxo

friends forever ✨