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Straight Through To Morning
Here's one to keep you up wondering about things. I can't remember how it started, but this is what I remember of my incredibly fucked up dream. First, it was in the scary place between awake and asleep, so I felt I was awake and that makes it even worse for me.
Lionel Richie was killing midgets. That's the short form. All I remember is that a war broke out. I remember that it vaguely started out about a dream involving my complete inability to sleep without the use of pills. I decided to try sleeping in my garage to little effect, as out of nowhere a party started. But this party was also something that seemed like the beginning of a war, as we seemed to be fortifying the gates in my house and the house next store. Sure, it doesn't seem like a large amount of space, but in my dream, it was a vast island type affair.
Oh. It was also a singles meet. Don't ask me. During this time, I met someone and fell in love with her, while also discovering that someone who wrote a poem we loved, and incited us to action, had died. This was a kid. 10-year-old boy I think.
And that's when the war started. We all ended up dying trying to protect something, and as I was losing my grip on reality, they discovered we had set a trap for them in an apartment not too far away. They were convinced they were going to get something important to us. And then I apparently died.
The scene changed to the apartment. Lionel Richie and someone who may or may not have been Rose McGowan bust down the door, searching for something that wasn't there. Hiding under a table was a blonde midget/little person/what have you, who knew she was going to die, and had strapped the room full of dynamite, desperate to get rid of these two high-ranking officials from the opposing army. Before she could set off the bomb however, Rose McGowan was told over intercom it was a trap and to get out. She started yelling at Lionel Richie to get out of there, but he decided he wanted to get the person who was trying to kill him. Right as he discovered where this person was.....I woke up.
And people wonder why I need pills to keep me asleep.
One In Five
Neurologists seem to be the lottery card of the medical world. Only one in 5 seem to be worth anything. I've seen four neurologists in three years, hoping that maybe, just maybe, the newest one would completely disregard the information presented to me by the previous doctors.
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