And bleh. And urf. And more than a little arrrgh.

Feeling that discontent pretty strongly today. I feel stifled, frustrated, and trapped. My irritated id makes me want to shake my fist at the sky and scream, possibly while gesticulating meaningfully with a spear made of bone.

I prefer bone, myself. So much easier to work with than stone.

I sure as heck don’t feel like blogging right now. I’d rather be asleep, to be honest, but that’s true of at least half my waking hours anyhow, so that’s not really news.

Slept for most of the afternoon except when I had to get up to pee, which I had to do like five times in six hours. So while I got plenty of sleep, it was medium quality at best.

I suppose I should take a sleeping pill so I can stay asleep longer and get that deep REM sleep that is so important for proper mental health.

But I probably won’t, which is stupid. Then again, what do you expect from someone whose brain is compromised by lack of sleep?

It’s a heck of a catch, that Catch-22.

I have been trying to add at least a little regularity to my sleep schedule by making sure that no matter what, I have my breakfast at 6 am and go to bed at 7 am.

That seems to be working fine so far. But the other half of my sleep hygeine program, the cutting down on naps, is not so easily accomplished.

I really don’t know any other way to cope. I have grown dependent on using sleep as a way to reset my mood and thus rid myself of my accumulated stress and anxiety. Without that, I am quite sure it would be panic attack city.

And then there’s the other function of my frequent napping, which is to act as a fast forward button for my empty day. All those blank and lonely hours are a lot easier to deal with when they are broken into 1.5 to 3 hour chunks. It also makes the main joyful events of my day – namely meals – not seem so far apart, and it keeps the hours from stretching too far into the future in my mind so I don’t get freaked out by them.

That’s so very sad, I can’t even.

And over and over again, how meaningless and stupid my life is comes crashing down around my ears. Here I am, brain the size of a planet, with enormous gifts and massive potential, and all I do is play video games all goddamned day.

And I deserve better, you know? I am a heck of a guy, and I deserve some success in my life. But I am never gonna get it because I am hemmed in by all this fear and anxiety and dead scar tissue of the mind.

I am drowning within myself and I have lost my faith in dry land.

And it makes me feel so hostile sometimes. Like I am daring the world to fuck with me so I can justify blowing up at it. Like I really, really want someone to fight. Like I have a head full of crazy and no way to let it out.

Except for writing this blog, of course. That helps.

The other half of the angry feelings is the fear. The fear that makes me want to hide from the entire universe by slipping into nonexistance for a while. Anything to make the demons of fear and anxiety shut the fuck up for a while so I can catch my breath and clear my head and maybe get a grip on things for once.

Say, did I mention that I dreamed I was death?

It was some time last week. I dreamt that I went to this super secret meeting inside a boxcar in an old abandoned trainyard on a grey overcast winter’s day.

Actually, I think the boxcar was just the entrance to the place. Anyhow.

It was a meeting of discarded mythological figures. Demigods and deities and magical creatures that had once actively embodied aspects of the human soul but who now existed as mere abstractions, or wildly misunderstood figures of myth.

And I was death. I looked a lot like Will Arnett but thinner. And I had that Will Arnett smug guy attitude but completely without a trace of humour. Instead, I was angry, restless, defensive, and full of cynicism and contempt.

I don’t remember anything about the other participants in this little support group, but I remember when it came to my turn to speak, I said something like “Well I never wanted to be here. To be this… death. At least you guys have some idea where you came from. Me, I just sprung up out of nowhere. I don’t know why I am here or what I am supposed to be doing. All I want is to be able to just… let… go… ”

Then I was overcome with emotion and closed my eyes and shed some manly tears. And that’s all I remember.

What does it all mean? I don’t know. I have had that sort of catharsis dream before but never in such detail and never “in character” as someone else.

And why was I death but not Death? I very clearly remembering saying and knowing I was death but I also clearly remember not meaning it in the whole “skeleton with a scythe” kind of way.

Like I was a death but not THE death, maybe.

Either way, it was a dream I am glad I had because I feel like it got at something that I don’t consciously understand yet. By pondering the dream, I stand a chance of being able to follow that thing to its roots in my mind and hence figure it out.

Plus I like, never have dreams that cool and deep and detailed. So I am pleased with that. Finally, a dream with some production values.

It always feels really good to me to write down a dream.

I should do it more often.

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.