Writing this made me tired

Early work shifts and severe lack of sleep beat me down. I went to the gym anyway and after 40 minutes on a StairBastard nearly fell down the real stairs. I trembled all the way home, fell into bed at 7 and stuck there like a magnet until 7 the next morning.

I dreamed all night and forever. I visited ruins. I shared recipes. I was wanted by the authorities. I ate giant hamburgers at gas stations. I violently jammed a screwdriver into the soft flesh under someone’s chin, crucifying their tongue from below. I ate bad food in a black-and-white Irish pub in the wilderness.

And I flew.

I never realized I was dreaming yet I flew around, willing myself into the air. A shipmate in the CG once told me when you dream that you’re flying, your soul actually leaves your body.
“I don’t believe that.”
“That you leave your body?”
“That people have souls.”
He shrugged. “All I know is, when I have a dream I’m flying, I wake up feeling great.”

Whether he planted the idea all those years ago I don’t know, but that part’s true, I awakened feeling great, filled with otherworldly energy.

All I have to do is sleep 12 hours a night.

One Response to “Writing this made me tired”

  1. Digital Howie Says:

    Fortunatley, when I sleep I dream nothing. But when I do dream it’s a fucking nightmare, with people after me and me trying to hide from them. And I never figure out why I’m being chased either. That’s the great mystery of my nightmares. Who the fuck is after me and why? But, like I say, I hardly ever have nightmares. So I do thank God for that bit of relief.

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