It’s 3a.m. and I cannot close my eyes. My mind, dulled by my meds, can barely contain my thoughts, much less eradicate them that I may find peaceful slumber.
Something happened a few days ago, and I think it spun me out a bit. I slept for three hours last night, and five the one before. I guess that, at this rate, I’ll be zero to one hour tonight. It’s funny how that all works, isn’t it? Some lil ol thing in your brain is just pumping chemicals into your system…chemicals that should be there. Your neurotransmitters are firing full force, as they should. Yet, your brain opts for the path less travelled; it casts off the very chemicals it produces to keep you ‘normal’, and your neurotransmitters are shooting at a blank target, for all intents and purposes. They’re like a gun that misfires. It might blow your hand off, or it may just stop functioning, altogether. What fun!
I know you don’t believe me when I tell you that I can feel my brain, but I can. I can feel the damn thing inside of my head. I’ve tried to explain how it feels when I can only feel the top part. Like now. It’s like Houston traffic up there. I wish I could explain it so that you’d understand. But, I can’t. I’m having a lot of trouble with verbal communication this week, but I think it’s because of the sleep thing.
Last night, when I finally fell asleep, I had a dream that I was dead and in a coffin in a funeral home. I remember how thick the makeup was and that I thought I must have died a horrible death. Even so, I sat straight up and got out of the coffin. Alone in the sanctuary, I walked over to a mirror and saw that they’d dressed me as a man and that my makeup was blue, as though I’d died the day before, or something. I couldn’t understand the suit or the makeup, but I couldn’t stop staring. Then, I put one hand out in front of me and I pushed my way into the mirror and disappeared. It’s was an odd thing to dream, and though I love to interpret dreams, I couldn’t get a line on what this one meant. Still can’t. I guess it was just for entertainment value…very creepy entertainment. I mean, I can’t help but think that organs, such as our brain, must become bored at times. Sometimes, I wonder if that’s the place that pain comes from. Not necessarily our brain, but our mind which, though separate from our brain, is solely influenced by the information our brain processes. That’s my theory, at least.
I still can’t get my old friend, K., off my mind. I’m completely blocked on his last name, but I’d love to remember so that I could find him and put some money on his books. I’m almost 51 now and haven’t seen him since I was 16. That was the year before the double murder and, effectively, the end of his life. I feel like I need to see him one last time. I hope I can remember his last name very soon…