He hasn't been offered the burden yet

My dreams are weird and thick and on the surface are just abstract craziness. When I wake up, I remember where I am. That's how invloved they have become, they're the way my life is until I wake up. I'm always dissapointed. The other night, Captain Jack was leaving in September and I was telling him how boring life was going to be without him. When I woke up, I realized that three Captain Jacks had already left and life already was boring without them. The night before that, I was Captain Jack in a spaceship chasing the Master around space. Every time I caught up with him, he beat the living shit out of me, but I always crawled back into my spaceship and continued the chase. Last night, I dreamed that I was watching a very cool cartoon movie where this happy goofy brown-haired girl hopped through dimentions and had an adventure. At one point she referenced Doctor Who and popped up wearing one of his suits with a spiked belt in her hair like a headband. I went out and bought the action figure of it. Something funny should be said, but I can't think of it.
I feel like I'm constantly shoving people away from me. In the shelter, a lot of people are trying to be my friend, but I don't want to be theirs because there's something about each of them that sets off my alarms. I don't feel like I'm in danger anymore. I sit on my bed and read or draw all with my ear plugs in, so it kind of feels like my bed is my room. If I'm accepted, I won't move into transitional housing for another three weeks, but it seems like it will be a breeze. I do wish there was something else to do besides hang out at the library. I might start writing a little fiction every day so I don't go crazy with monotony. I did the other night and it felt good. In it, I killed my dad. I've been on the verge of writing that out for quite a while, but I never actually did because I didn't want to spoil the feeling. I wanted to feed off of the idea before writing it down made it a little more real, and sucked all the energy out of the image and spit it out on paper. It was disturbing and my therapist was very happy that I had written it. She asked how I did it and I awkwardly told her. I always worry people will misunderstand and think that I'm a blood-crazed psychopath about to murder everyone and call the whitecoats on me. Really, I'm just pissed off.
Having Framklin helps a lot. Her presence has been integrated into my therapy. My therapist was impressed when I told her that I had basically been treating Framklin like a child and taking care of her and comforting her. I felt like a total lunatic, but my therapist told me that I was on the right track and to continue it. Inner child work and such. I have to admit, it feels really good to say in my mind, "What do you want to do today, Framklin?"
I've decided to avoid the One Big Emotional Trigger group. It doesn't seem like a very good idea to be in a room full of people who have had similar experiences describing how their parents raped them, at least for now. My curiosity with it was morbid, at best. Even as I type, I'm still not sure. I might check it out and leave if it gets to be too much.

The internet wants me gone, so I will be gone.