[astigmatic much?] pith.org content, daily-like
most recently
archive

Monday March 13, 2006, 01:30

Dreams.

I grind my teeth in the middle of the night, so much so that I once woke myself up with the scraping of enamel on enamel. It's not a high-pitched, nails-on-a-blackboard type of noise. It's just grinding, but it's a combination of the actual action of grinding with the noise that it makes inside my head that does me in. I wear a mouth guard at night now. My dentist said that one of his patients told him it was the best thing ever, but I don't feel that way about my night guard. Instead, I feel that it pushes my lower jaw, my lower jaw which years of orthodonture had fixed, shifted and perfected, out of place so that I wake up with an aching jaw anyway. I have an appointment coming up, and I will take it up with my dentist again. I'll make him pay attention to me this time. I'll tell him that I've been using it, and it's not just a case of not being used to the device yet.

I've had plenty of these devices over the years, and while they're not supposed to feel like slippers, this one is supposed to make me feel better in the morning, not just differently uncomfortable.

Dreams.

Right, so about those dreams. I've been having a lot of dreams lately. There was one that involved a large airfield that I was walking through, ending up in an office building where people kept on getting shot and where I had to crawl up inside of the drop ceiling in the hallway and make my way along the metal supports holding the fiberglass tiles up in the ceiling and where I was forced to come down out of the ceiling and where I was brought before the devil who I tried to kill with a spear by repeatedly running him through with said spear, only to have him de- and re-materialize as I tried to kill him, only to have him laugh at me and tell me that I couldn't really kill him because I really didn't want to and ending with me running up to him with an arrow in my hand, driving it into the side of his abdomen whereupon he looked down with some amusement and noted that I had finally pierced him, and where he sat with the arrow sticking out of his side, much as Christ did on the cross, as he was stuck with, right, a spear.

Thing is, I've had this dream before. But according to my memory-in-a-dream about the prior dreams, I was able to kill the devil in the past, and something had changed this time as to prevent me from doing him in as I had in the past. Something about not wanting it badly enough, or not deserving it, or just not being ready for it.

It was not a dream that I really enjoyed having, and though at one point I do think that I was able to recognize that it was a dream, I did wake up incredibly frustrated at my inability to "finish the job," or whatever else it was there to symbolize.

Dreams.

What is it that makes me, four and half years after I watched the Twin Towers burn (but not fall, for I had gone inside to upload my photos to the Internet), go into a complete panic when I watch planes fly over the island of Manhattan? Surely, I tell myself, if someone tried that shit again, they would be down in a second, and never get as far as flying over midtown, but at the same time, when I hear and see planes flying that path northward, up from the tip of the island up towards the Empire State Building, I can't help but watch it, watch it fly past and crane my neck around the buildings to try watch as it clears over the city.

It's the same thing that makes me dream, again and again, of buildings falling over, of bricks falling from the sky and, just last week, of watching as an airplane flew over my head as I was standing on the roof deck of an adjacent building and slammed into the Empire State Building right next to me. Watched as I, all of a sudden across the river in Brooklyn, had to walk home across the bridge, back into a city on fire, towards my building, by then also on fire, to retrieve belongings from my apartment.

I don't like sleeping. I never have really. My parents tell me that I used to stay up all night in school, sitting on my computer. Saying that I would wake up early and amuse myself by playing on the floor of my room, all alone. I remember a period of my life growing up when it seemed like I had a nightmare every night. An oft recurring dream involved ghosts in my house and a bevy of babysitters all wearing the same socks ("We're dressed for sock," I believe one of them had said).

Am I afraid of sleep? Afraid what I might miss out in the real world if I spend time sleeping, or just the opposite? Am I afraid of what I might see in the dream world if I spend too much time in it, allowing myself to get so caught up in that fantasy that I forget what it's like to live an actual life? Or am I just afraid of what I might see in my dreams, because they can hurt me? There are only so many hours and so many days in so many years that we can actually make a mark that I would rather not let the time get too far away from me, and if I can keep the sleep at bay just a little while longer, then maybe I'll actually get to where I need to by the time I'm done here.

But sometimes I need sleep, and my body tells me so. Sometimes, I will just collapse on the sofa, or my eyes will pull themselves shut and I will be forced to drag my body, heavier than I can imagine, from the desk to the bed, to pull the sheets up around my neck and let myself recover from the world that I put it through.

And sometimes I need sleep as an escape from the pain in my world. Sometimes, the world that I encounter in my dreams, as frightening and unnerving as it has been in the past, can simply not hold a candle to the discomfort that I feel in my waking hours, and I retreat into slumber knowing that, for a couple of hours at least, I can free my mind from the weight of the day.

Replaced with dreams.

[ permanent link ]

[ email love | your love | consumer love ]

------------------

search the past

remember the past

1999
    aug 04 05 06 08 09 11 12 15 17 22 26 30
    sep 01 03 07 12 20 28
    oct 04 14 18 22
    nov 02 07 12 19 25 26 27
    dec 12 15 18 28 31

2000
    jan 02 06 11 12 18 29
    feb 03 10 14 17 21 23 28 29
    mar 05 06 20 22 25 26
    apr 02 05 06 08 09 10 12 13 17 20 21 24 25 28 29
    may 03 05 08 11 12 15 17 17b 18 18b 21 23 25 29 30 31
    jun 01 01b 03 06 07 08 10 13 14 16 18 21 23 25 30
    jul 03 06 09 10 13 16 26
    aug 02 03 04 08 10 17 21 25 29
    sep 06 07 12 13 18 24
    oct 06 11 12 19 30 31
    nov 08 11 22 26 30
    dec 01 10 14 21 30

2001
    jan 01 09 14 16 30
    feb 11 15 20 22
    mar 06 08 09 21 25 30
    apr 01 04 05 09 13 18 23 24 25 28
    may 04 09 11 14 16 17 21 25 31
    jun 02 08 20 21 28 29
    jul 07 13 17 28
    aug 14 24 26
    sep 09 12 23 24
    oct 10 26 28 31
    nov 11 17 18 28 30
    dec 02 08 15 18 26

2002
    jan 03 07 08 18 20 23
    feb 04 05 17 19 22
    mar 06 10 13 15 17
    apr 13 16 19 26
    may 03 13 16 21
    jun 08 15 21
    jul 03 05 10 18 24
    aug 03 18
    sep 11 20
    oct 03 05
    nov 10
    dec 30

2003
    jan 19
    feb 04 14 27
    mar 10 23 31
    apr 11 15
    may 26
    jun 16 29
    aug 17
    sep 15
    oct 08
    nov 30
    dec 11 24 28

2004
    jan 06 23 30
    feb 01 21
    mar 04 09
    apr 15
    may 02 10
    jul 03
    aug 02 16 30
    oct 04 17
    nov 28
    dec 28

2005
    jan 03 24
    mar 24
    may 28
    aug 01 10
    sep 03
    oct 12 28
    dec 25

2006
    jan 01 07 16
    feb 02 13 28
    mar 12 13
    apr 17

other things to look at

back home