Monday, February 23, 2015



I wake up many mornings feeling as exhausted as if I had worked in my garden all night; but, alas, this has nothing to do with sex. My nightmares, and I have them constantly, even during brief afternoon naps, have become increaingly violent and ugly, creating a world of pain, screams, filth, fights, grotesqueries, mutilations, and ghastly images that linger with me for hours, teasing and tormenting, ruining days that might otherwise be gentle and joy-filled. Their distortions of people I know in waking life are so vividly, intensely obscene and repulsive that they affect my emotional involvements with them, often causing me to confuse what I know about them with what I dreamed they did.The condition of my bedding when I wake testifies to the terrible physicality of my dreaming: there are often holes in the sheet made by my thrusting toes; and when my limbs are caught up in the tangle of sheet and blanket, my dreams are hurled into more desperate wrestling, threats of strangulation, entrapment by machines and monsters. I am trying to reduce my sleeping hours. I don't know what else to do. Is this all a harbinger of my next madness? This is not the post I wanted to write today; but, once again, the demons rule. For now. Be patient with me.

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