I both love and hate dreaming. For a brief time my sleeping mind makes everything alright. Yes, it’s all hunky-dory. I am on top of the world. I’m blissfully unaware of what awaits on the other side of sleep. As for waking, well, it’s not a slow descent back down the mountain. It’s being pushed off a cliff.
Oh, and forget about a soft landing. It’s a splat. A thud. One where the impact is so violent it makes an impression in the ground. It’s a helpless free fall.. arms and legs flailing in some crazy hope that I’ll fly. Can I at least create some aerodynamic drag, for goodness sake? All that’s missing is the cartoon-ish Acme anvil landing on my head. (Beep, beep).
I’m not sure if I wrote this in the past or just thought about it, but dreams are like a drug and wakeful reality is the hangover. It’s a fantasy-induced euphoria followed by a very real withdrawal. It sucks.
Last night’s dream was especially sweet. Brought to me in Techno-Color.
I never want to dream again.[poll id=”49″]