aka: The Ramblings of an Exhausted Little Boy
I can't sleep. I can never sleep. Maybe it's insomnia. Maybe it's something worse. Can you die from not sleeping enough? I know if you sleep too much you die, or maybe it's if you sleep and don't wake up, I don't know, I'm not good with old wives' tales. Which, by the way, is an absurd phrase, "old wives' tales?" Who listens to old wives anyhow? Certainly not their husbands. (Why do men die first? Cause they want to). But if an old wive tried to tell me a story, I'd be like, "hey, old wive, you can take your tale and shove it, or else....or else I'll turn on the Home Shopping Network and paralyze your behind!!"
So the moral of this story is I haven't slept. Well I did sleep actually, if you count three hours as proper doze-time. I tend to lay on my pillow and drift off, and suddenly I'm remembering people and events that I forgot I lived and met. And these so-called "friends" and "memories," who never call or check in now and again by the way, decide to bombard me with their company. I've had just about enough. I forgot you, Mr. Memory, for a reason, don't bother me while I'm trying to sleep.
I'm not a religious man, the product of being raised by God hating Jewish and Lutheran parents, while simultaneously having a Buddah tattooed to my back. But if I was religious, I would pray to Lord Nyquil. Whenever we seem to meet it must be good times, because I always tend to blackout, come to hours later, and for some reason, be on my stomach with no pants on. I don't know how it happens, all I know is that I've noticed a different hitch in my step ever since...
But when I do dream it's incredible. There are always elaborate sets, sword fights, dragons, flying spaceships piloted by three-eyed monkeys, and lots of running. And after studying Freud for many minutes at Barnes & Noble one day, I can tell you my dreams probably have something to do with sex...or a fear of abandoment...or mind control from Moonmen, I'm not sure. Besides Freud was all hopped up on that white nose candy anyhow to be taken seriously ("I've been trying to quit drugs. I don't like coke....just the way it smells" - RIP Rodney).
Sometimes I wonder if my dreams are prophecies. Maybe I really will fight Luther Vandross to the death, surrounded by a burning lake of gasoline for the fate of mankind someday. I can't say for sure it won't happen (I lost the fight by the way - sorry humanity). But perhaps I can predict the future. I have deja vu all the time. Seriously. At least twice a day. I have deja vu all the time. Seriously. At least twice a day.
Or perhaps dreams are more simple than that. Maybe they don't need to be as complicated as prophecies or a subconscious understanding and analysis of your ego and id competing for control of your medulla oblongata. Maybe it's an easy solution. Something like your pineal (not a dirty word I swear) gland breaking through the boundaries and limitations of the three dimensional and emotionally sensed universal paradigm of this world and seeking refuge in a greater, euphoric, enlightened realm of understanding. Yea I think that makes more sense. And easy to explain to the kids. "Hey Johnny, is that your pineal gland acting up again, or are you just happy to see me?"
But what do I know. I didn't get enough sleep!!
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