The night before last I had a dream. Usually I have nightmares, but this was a nice one. I was living in a perfect house entertaining a perfect companion (perfect as I define it anyway). It was amazing. I felt unburdened, calm, and full of life. I felt good about myself and confident. My friend and I got along effortlessly on every level with the same interests and sense of humor. The depth of feeling was mutual and unconditional. All was well and I was happy.
When the dream started to end I fought it. I was in that still dreaming while realizing that you are dreaming state and I didn't want to leave. I knew the happiness would end when I did. When I woke up there was just enough residual feeling to remind me what had been taken away. For the next few hours I tried, unsuccessfully, to fall asleep again so I could go back.
It's comforting to think that maybe we have things backwards and our dreams are the reality. But I don't believe that's the case. My reality consists of a medication induced numbness punctuated by episodes of abject fear, anger, confusion, and despair. The nice dreams are just a taunt, views of a life that I am incapable of having. What an utterly awful existence this is.
Here's to more of the same in 2008. Let's hope it passes quickly.
01 Jan 2008, 5:21 pm
