Dreams

I haven't posted in a while, and I'm sorry to just sorta jump into a topic without explaining my prolonged absence. Really, I've just been too lazy to write. Lazy and uninspiration are a lethal combination for the scribically inclined. (Scribically? Did I make that up? That's fucken awesome...)

I am somewhere between narcolepsy and insomnia right now. I sleep, but only because I drug myself into doing so, and I wake up frequently in the night due to a combination of highly psychologically intense, mellow, or straight up scary-as-shit nightmares (those are usually the times when I've stopped breathing while sleeping... yes, sleep apnea. No, I haven't been to a doc about it. Give me $25 copay and I'll get back to you.)

Last night I had a dream that I was in an academic building, and whenever the professor of the classroom I happened to be in said something disturbing, I would get up (like a ghost) and wander the halls and stairs of the school. I say like I ghost because, while I don't remember being able to go through walls, I had an inexplicable feeling of being invisible... and probably intangible. Finally, I wandered to the mental health clinic because one professor had implied that I should go. Again, my physical (conscious) body wanted nothing to do with this, so it was up to ghost body (or, perhaps another personality?) to take me there. The mental health clinic was in the basement of the building. I tried to be as discreet as possible when entering; fortunately, people politely did NOT stare at me and play Guess-the-Psychosis with me when I stood at the reception desk getting the forms I needed. I sat down near a few guys (because I just absolutely DO NOT sit next to females in an otherwise empty room anymore.) I noticed that the guys I was sitting next to were actually young, emotionally disturbed boys between the ages of 14 and 22. Chronologically they were much younger than me, but I'm not sure that that's relevant since physically (and probably emotionally/psychologically) we probably weren't that far apart. I think that the reason these boys were there wasn't so much that they needed help (they did) but because they needed to learn to ask for help... to identify when areas of their life were impaired by their mental health and to be able to do something about it before they hurt themselves or others. (Shit... and I hadn't even read my psychology book in weeks!) Then, there was one guy who looked about my age (24) who was apparently leading this sharing session. I hadn't realized that actually all the boys of this group had to read what they were feeling and experiencing to the group. Everyone was scared about being judged by the other boys, but somehow, they all knew this would happen so they just sucked it up and were honest (I think) with the group about what was going on with them. I didn't share mine because, like with the professors before, I turned back into a ghost and listened to, but did not interact with, the group for a few minutes. Then I started to leave. But one of the doctors or nurses yelled for me to come. How did she see me?!? I pretended not to hear, but she told me that I had manic depression and, if I didn't stay and get help, that it would morph into the most severe kind of depression (implied: the kind were the only 'recovery' is usually suicide...) Damn.

I woke up as I pushed open the doorway to the stairs... ignoring the nurse's warnings.