One Tired Man

That's me. I've had nothing but work for quite some time. No time to play. No time for Sly. No time for anything. Coming to an end on Monday, next of course, and I'm looking forward to it.

I'm a lucid dreamer. Have been my entire life. The definition of a lucid dream is as follows: a dream state in which one is conscious enough to recognize that one is in the dream state and which stays in one's memory. Basically, I am 'awake' enough to make my own decisions within that dream and know that I'm dreaming. Because of this I've only ever had 3 'nightmares' in my life. One of which was last night.

In the dream, Sly and I were over at someone's house visiting and watching videos. I'm not sure our host was anyone that I actually recognized but I think it's irrelevant. The crazy dark-haired girl from The Ring, Samara, came by to kick our asses. Well I didn't take to kindly to that so I started getting indignant, as one is want to do in that sort of situation, and started dishing up a bit of kick ass myself. Or at least the attempt was made and this is where I lost control of my dream.

Samara beat me senseless. Not fair, she's a supernatural being and I but a lowly human. Never the less, laying in a bleeding heap while Samara closed in on my wife was a very, very disconcerting feeling. I felt fear. Honest to god fear. In a location where I've always been in control of my surroundings, my emotions and eventually my fate. This is kind of where the odd stuff comes in.

Laying on the floor I was offered a terrible choice by a voice in my head: watch my wife die a horrible death or allow myself to be 'taken over' by a malignant spirit who would be able to fight Samara but I would be lost in the transaction. By lost I mean that my spirit/soul/inner light, whatever the fuck it is you want to call it would be extinguished, my body then inhabited by whatever bastard spirit was making the offer to me. What a conundrum eh?

Needless to say I made the sacrifice and was forced to watch from behind my own eyes my body kicking the crap out of that little bitch. Samara, of course. However, as the fight concludes I'm left inside my own little prison, trapped in a small corner of my own mind while the evil creature with who I've made the trade laughs incessantly and goes about his merry way.

It's at that point where I actually wake up and look around the room, scared. Really scared. I scanned the shadows of our room for ghosts and when my mind couldn't register any I tried to fall back asleep. But I couldn't do it. I simply couldn't get the feeling of fear out of my mind and couldn't sleep. I tried several times but kept seeing the same evil countenance smiling back from my closed eye lids. That really freaked me out.

I told Sly about the dream this morning and she said I woke her several times twitching in my sleep. Gee, I wonder why.

Someone who believes more in dream analysis might say I'm concerned about events in my life that are stripping away my ability to make choices for myself. Or something.