In Between Dreams

Do you ever have that dream where you are raining haymakers on someone but you can't get a good shot in? Either your punches are ineffective or you keep missing. It's the fucking worst. Following closely is the dream where you are trying to run, but your feet seem to be stuck in some sort of quicksand or some mythological force from Hyrule that is keeping you in your place. To make matters worse I often have the dream that I am trying to fuck someone up and I'm failing, I have some fictitious cinder blocks attached to my feet and then I fall off of something, and the whole way down I'm like "this is it...I'm going to die, I never even gave a chick anal...my life was a failure."

But then I wake up in a cold sweat frantically punching the air. I see that I have ripped my fitted sheet off of my mattress, assaulted all of my pillows, it's 4 in the morning and I'm unsure if I pissed myself or I am just that sweaty. I feel terrible for anyone that has ever had to share a bed with me. It's not even this new incarnations of night terrors, or dreams that feel so real to me that I can't tell the difference between fact and fiction. I snore like a baleen whale, I sleepwalk in an almost comical sense. Whereas most people stand up go piss in the closet and go back to bed, I go on epic journeys. Yes that's it...I sleep journey. My affliction has taken me to beaches, foreign countries and even prisons. (Speaking of prisons...I would like to report that Monroe County finally gave up on that warrant they had for me. They sent my mom a letter dropping all charges, basically because I persevered. Never did community service, never took the alcohol class, got away with it...because they are too busy trying to find that dead Smallwood girl to track down an LA blogger with an outstanding drinking ticket. Suck it bitches.)

Why are my dreams so fucking weird and real. Why do I wake up feeling as though I have solved all my problems (oh don't worry about losing your wallet, when you wake up everything will be ok) It's never fucking ok. Taking solace in sleep is the worst. It's like I live on Elm Street and my stress metaphysicizes (<-- invented word...I think I meant to use metabolize) itself and attacks me in my sleep.  

Anyway, I've narrowed it down to a few culprits. The first is the alcohol. I think that on any given week most nights I'm going through some sort of withdrawal and my liver is literally going through hell and back just to function. I believe my liver has formed a strategic alliance with my nervous system in which it projects its pain onto me while I sleep. It's a radical theory but the human body is a magnificent organism, stranger shit has happened. My 2nd theory is that subconsciously I want to be living in this crazed world of excitement. Every time I go to sleep it's like I'm transported into Total Recall, I live a fairly boring life Monday-Friday and maybe that's just not enough so my mind provides the necessary distraction from the monotony while my eyes are closed. I have a feeling if someone were to watch me sleep my eyes are going buck fucking wild while I'm under.

Solutions: I don't dream when I'm super fucked up. It's like my nervous system is too inebriated to trick me. Also I'm not stressed out when I'm drunk, I really don't give a fuck about anything except getting a burrito delivered to me when I'm drinking. So that's a reasonable way to fix my problem, but again, when I drink two bottles of Trader Joe's Cab alone watching Shark Tank I feel like a problem drinker.

Or maybe I should just embrace my Cloud Strife fantasies for what they are...dreams. If I'm so moved maybe it could be a story to tell some day. By the time I tell it I won't even be sure if it was real or imagined. Jesus I sound like I'm on an LSD trip...maybe I am.