Sleep deprivation is wonderful, said no-one, at anytime ever.
My tendency is to think of myself as the little engine that could…. I over-commit and do my due diligence to deliver, to my own demise.
I love accomplishing goals, the feeling of a job well done is so satisfying, with or without the atta-boys, fanfare and applause…
(Danny is such a GOOD boy, yes..he…is)
**shuffles papers and acts busy**
I give myself enough pats on the back.
At the end of jobs well done, say, going to bed at 330 am, It is my ritualistic reward to lie in bed wide awake, torturing myself with what did I forget to do, or what did I fail to mention, forget to call. Even better than that, once I settle my brain and my subconscious kicks in with the most amazing, jarring, snap-you-right-outta slumber, twilight kinda dream.
Sometimes it’s a vivid trip and fall, others it’s walking into a wall.
Last night’s was a new one. As I drifted to sleep, a kid and little brother laying by the pool face down, having a contest of who could hold their breath the longest with their face in the pool. As I watched, I realized the youngest won by drowning. I was jarred awake by leaping out of my poolside lounge chair.
Eyes wide open, I realize I am tucked safely in my hotel bed, at 4 am. Followed by yet another dream that happened 3 times in a row. First 2 times I saw a large peice of luggage dangling above me by a rope. I am blocked on 3 sides, I watched wondering what it was doing there, when all the sudden it is shoved down on me, under the weight of it and some person doing it intentionally, I woke up yelling. What the neighboring rooms must have thought.
Whew! I am “safely” in my bed at 425 am.
Finally I am dreaming, I am in my bed in my cozy hotel room, when all the sudden, someone is attempting to smother me with my pillow and blankets… I struggle unable to breath. When I finally get my face clear of the obstructions, there I am, smothering myself!
I come to and my pillows and blankets are, well, everywhere.
My subconscience is a strong sum bitch.
He is also a crazy muther fucker, unlike myself.
Fuck you! I am sane as I determine I am, “I’m not crazy, you’re crazy.”
I can’t imagine what my fuckin subconscious me is trying to tell my conscious self, but the cot-damn, sub-me needs to get to fucking sleep.
Oh yeah, I am awake, he IS asleep…. what a jackwagon!
Fuck this shit, I have had not enough sleep, or enough coffee, or nowhere near enough narcotics.
“Guess i picked the wrong week to stop sniffing glue”.
I’m gonna board another long tin tube, with aluminum air foils, to be hurled through the air at mind splattering speeds….
Welcome to the friendly skies muther fuckers, hope I don’t get my ass kicked by the airport cops.
To the airport cops: IF YOU ARE READING THIS, I AM NOT WRITTING IT, IT’S THE CRAZY REDHEAD SITTING NEXT TO ME, SHE HAS ABSCONDED MY PHONE, SHE NEEDS TO BE APPREHENDED…..S.O.S.(sweet! an empty center seat!)