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I'm only crazy when I sleep


So I have a couple of recurring dreams.  The first one is fairly harmless.  I get it when I clench my teeth at night.  Consequently, I dream that all my teeth are falling out.  I’ve had it so many times that I often realize that I’m dreaming within the dream.  I never do anything cool once I realize that I’m dreaming.  Naked Halle and naked Mariah never show up and seduce me or something cool like that.  I just sort of gum around and spit blood until the ride is over.

Now, there’s another dream that I keep having that is even worse than the feeling of having to spit all my teeth into the sink.  I keep having this dream where I fuck up… really, REALLY fuck up.  You see, I keep having this dream where I commit murder.  Funny enough, the actual murder is never anything special.  Half the time, I pop in to the dream and the murder is already over.  I get in to the dream at the really bad part.  I’m either running from the cops, in custody or sitting around with the realization that I’ve just thrown my life away.

When I’m running from the cops it gets kind of fun.  They rarely catch me.  It’s really fun when I go Wesley Snipes on one of their asses and kick somebody through a window or something.  Sometimes I wake up and the adrenaline is still pumping.  It’s tough to go back to sleep but it’s good to know that my subconscious knows there’s a bad ass in me somewhere.

The “in custody” dreams are the worst.  I have that feeling where I don’t have anything else to live for.  I think about my friends and family, all my education and all my potential and how it has all gone down the drain.  It’s a rough feeling that it has all been for nothing.  I dream that I’m in a cell with no reason to put one foot in front of the other.  I guess that’s as close to a nightmare that I ever get.

There’s also the times when I get in to the dream just before or just after the murder where it hits me all at once that I really fucked up.  I should clarify that these killings aren’t of anybody important.  They usually stem from somebody being racist or somehow really asking for it.  Usually, guns aren’t even involved.  It is usually a shanking or a really vicious beating.  Apparently my subconscious also thinks there’s a blood lust in me somewhere, too, but I’ll pretend like I don’t know why that is.  Anyway, the murdering isn’t the important thing.  What sucks is that moment when I wonder “What do I do now?”  I never hang around to face my fate.  I just look for sanctuary while lamenting that all the hard work I’ve done not to screw it all up has failed. 

I know that they are just dreams but it means that I have some deep seeded fear of having it all slip away from some momentary lapse.  It also must mean that I’m not too opposed to murder.  I’m just opposed to getting caught for that shit.  When it comes to the loss of life, apparently my main focus is my own.

I guess what we’ve learned is, if you’re looking to get murdered, please stay the fuck away from me because I would really hate to kill you… for personal reason, you understand.

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