Every day for the last month or so has just been an endless dream. Everything that happened one day the very next would feel like it was a week ago. Now it’s got to the point where I’m dreaming of occurrences in the same day. Something that happened in the morning felt like happened days ago. The nights are sleepless. I try to sleep. I try so hard to sleep every night. I’m so tired too. Even as I write this I feel the urge to sleep. The moment I try I can’t do it. I simply lay there like a rock with my mind on fire. Raging over everything and anything. When I do finally sleep. When my mind finely decides I get my break, I dream. I dream the most wonderful loving caring dreams I can imagine. I become engrossed in the worlds. I never want to leave them but then I do. Every night, every time. I get pulled out of my fairy tales into this. This dirt heap. This slimy rotten putrid scum infested reality. In that very moment each day. My wrath grows just a little stronger. The need to dull the real world with help from my good friend Jack Daniels becomes more tempting. I have control for now but the more days that pass, the more dreams that get taken from me makes the need grow stronger and stronger. It’s just such an easy fix I can’t help it sometimes. The idea of the dizzying emptiness alone helps me cope at times. I feel I fit into the constant stereotype of the misunderstood angry drunk writer. The only time I sleep comfortably and constantly is when I had a few drinks. Just that empty sinking blackness. No beautiful dreams though. Just darkness. As happy and beautiful as the dreams are in the moment. Is it worth the trouble of waking up? In that moment the best of dreams are nightmares. These dreams are my greatest pleasure and greatest torment. Is it better to drink it all away or hold on to every little moment you can. I’m not sure but I think it’s time to try sleeping again.
– The Mad Man