sunday morning
Ramblings of a mad man.
Tales from the other side of sanity.
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Showing posts tagged sleep
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fuck me trippy ass twenty minute dream
Drifted off into a twenty minute nap, a nap that felt a whole hell of a lot longer than it was. You see, in the dream that I dreamt in the nap that I took I dreamt that I had taken a good-sized handful of Lunesta and was taking a nap and having difficulty waking up, a weird dream in itself, but nothing mind-blowing. Here’s where it get’s trippy: the nap that I dreamt about was identical to the nap on the very same couch that I was currently existing in. And I WAS having trouble waking up in my real nap, not my dream nap. I was dreaming that I was asleep in the very sleep that let said dream exist at all. There’s something strange and circular and disorienting about this whole thing and I don’t like any of it it, and I might just go back to bed because at least then I didn’t have to puzzle over dreams where I dream almost exactly what is happening at the moment.
Dreams are made possible by sleep. Sleep is real. Real is every-day life—I do not care to engage in any language games or deconstructionary tactics here, just grant me this. We typically say dreams are not real—mystical, physiological, psychological, whatever the fuck they are, they lack the quality of real-world existence in that their content is not existential. The content simply lacks the existential qualifier that real-life possesses.
So what does it mean when my real sleep leads to a dream the content of which is virtually existentially identical to my actual existence? The Lunesta taken in the dream aside, everything else was exactly the same. Indeed, I wasn’t even sure, in the dream, if I had taken the Lunesta at all—it was simply posited [in my dream’s dream] as an explanation for why I could not wake up.
I had trouble waking up from a dream in which I dreamt that I was having trouble waking up from a dream.
The bizarreness of this experience has me quite shaken and, while mentally stimulated, kind of wanting to return to sleep.
A dream that’s content was identical to its dreamer’s existential state.
What does that mean?
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I would kill for an ambien right about now.
Too anxious/tired/stressed/sad to sleep. I’m moving to Austin. I’ve moved to Austin? I have two apartments, one in Denton, one in Austin. I should be in Austin. I’m in Denton. I don’t know why I am in Denton. I’m moving to Austin to go to law school at the University of Texas and I don’t know why I’m moving to Austin to go to law school
Ghosts from last summer keep popping up in my head and they’re going ‘round and ‘round and I can’t sleep. Really, do I want to sleep? Sleeping means waking up tomorrow, Tuesday, one day closer to orientation, one day closer to school, one day closer to permanently moving with no more of this now-I’m-in-Denton now-I’m-in-Austin shit. I hate this now-I’m-in-Denton now-I’m-in-Austin shit, but I don’t want to let it go, because once I do, I’ll be saying goodbye to Denton for good.
Is there anything I want to hang on to in Denton? No, not really. Nothing comes to mind. My time here is over. The people I care about here have moved on or are in the process of moving in. The person I was here is gone, and good riddance to him, don’t let the door hit you on your way out. So what am I clinging to? Memories, I guess. Memories that are far better than the actual times that they correspond to. And hell, the actual memories themselves aren’t even that good, so the times they correspond to must have been fucking terrible. So what am I holding on to? No, that’s not the question. The question is: why am I holding on?
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First Draft Complete! Derivatives and Anxiety: A Phenomenology of Market Risk
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Ohh touché, Tumblr. Touché.
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“Nobody realizes that some people expend tremendous energy merely to be normal.”
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