Monday, April 21, 2014

Addicted to your aftertaste.

Needless to say, I didn't have a great Easter weekend. 

Of course I don't find anything special about Easter or have any great Easter memories as a kid.  My little brother had a pet rabbit, so I tend to think of them as little shit machines rather than as adorable bunnies.  So Leo running off was more of a concern than the holiday weekend.

(Easter is also one of those useless holidays because everybody is basically closed, and if you don't plan ahead you're fucked.)

Once Leo was found my Easter weekend mainly involved waiting on a text that never came for a date that I knew I'd get stood up on (third time now), playing Titanfall, sleeping, and killing ants.  And occasionally very worrying dreams.  I have some weird stuff going through my head.  One thing is obviously some kind of Hero Complex.  While it's not quite lucid dreaming, I find myself with superhuman abilities... but usually fail in my goals.  A recent one involved Ex.  I was still in Boston in this dream, and Ex had been physically hurt somehow.  I needed to get him to a hospital, which should have been easy, you can't turn around in Boston without your ass hitting a hospital.  No matter how hard I tried, carrying Dale in my arms, I couldn't find one.  Then I noticed that I had not paid attention, and that we'd been hit with a flash snow-storm (which are freaky things).  Ex's face was covered in snow and hail.  I brushed it off him and checked his eyes to make sure they weren't frozen.  Then he said something that snapped me out of the dream, awake.  I remember what he said  but it doesn't matter.

Those kind of rescue mission type dreams are pretty common.  They are frustrating because I have a specific goal, somebody to protect, but I never do a good job of it.

Another dream becoming more common is the "Have I had another stroke" dream.  I think the nature of how the stroke felt... or didn't feel, I guess... is what causes this one.  The one I had last night, I was obviously in a high tech hospital.  White surfaces, clean rooms.  I stumble out of bed and almost lose my balance, which was just like when I had the stroke.  I manage to keep my balance, stumbling into a room filled with white desks and I sit at one.  A red haired older man is sitting across from me, on the desk between is what looks like a Wii-mote with just one  red button on it.  In the same way that you know what's going on in a dream without being told, I knew what this was.  The red button would cure me of the stroke, at the cost of a stranger's life... meaning, the red-head.  The guy starts to explain it to me anyway, "Remember, if you push that button..."

That's as far as he got.  BOOM.  Button pushed.  It would have been funny if I hadn't felt so vicious doing it.  He slumps over in midsentence.  Then something else happened and I woke up. 


I've got something new to listen to to get to sleep, too:  Good Omens, read by Stephen Briggs.  It's been forever since I've dived into this book, and the audio version is top notch.

Gotta work now.

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