(no subject)
Well, then-- its been a long time since a serious entry.
I just got done talking about some dudes about this exact thing-- and my mind is still hammering away at it, so instead of just going to bed and attempt to silence my thoughts, I'll write them down. Thats what my Creative Writing proffessor tells me to do, at least.
I started Celexa recently for Anxiety; the doctor I talked too recently thinks that diagnosing me with Depression was most likely a mistake, and instead, that I have something much more akin to anxiety disorder. My bucket gets full, stays full, and the assorted fullness causes difficulties with everything else. Anti-depressents are funky in the way that they can have any number of assorted side effects, but the side effect that seems to have paralleled my exposure to the Celexa is the stuff its done to my dreams.
Yeah, you heard me, my dreams. I talked to my mom about it, and she thinks its highly possible, and has even sited a couple cases where this sort of stuff is the norm. Now mind you, I'm not going to go on to some rant about my dreams have been prophetic or some other medimal bullshit, but more, they've just become extremely vivid. My dreams have always been abstract, fuzzy, and in general, things I forget much more than I remember. In fact, I nearly never had ones that I remembered-- I would fall asleep and wake up seemingly within the space of an instant. When people said, "You know what its like when you have a dream when you realize you're dreaming?" I stood in the dark, totally baffled by this strange phenomenon. When people spoke of the vividity of dreams, so strange and accurate that it was nigh impossible to differentiate them from real-life, I expressed my disbelief in tones of absolute bafflement.
Not anymore. In the weeks since I've gone on Celexa, my dreams have become vivid, realistic, and long. And when I say long, I mean that I wake up and I just got done reading a fucking novel long. My dreams go on and on and on and on. I've had one of the "Oh, I realize I'm dreaming" dreams-- I've had two dreams where I had to actually -talk- to someone to make sure that they were, in all honesty, dreams. (The bastards ended with me getting in bed and going to sleep, in THE SAME GODDAMN CLOTHES I WAS IN.) I've had the "waking up in my dreams to my dorm room, but I'm still dreaming," dreams. I've had quite literally -everything-.
Heres the thing though, screw this prophetic shit that people talk about, my dreams have become fucking satires of my life. My dreams have no metaphysical significance, but they always seem to be about the topics that I'm thinking about. When I was thinking probably too much about Rowela, (rebound syndrome, I think,) my dreams were all about her. And they told me what I alredy knew-- it was a lost cause.
Consider this little gem-- we were sitting there, talking at an amusement park (actually, for a little bit more detail, we were at a First Aid tent, she had gotten dehydrated because she forgot her water. I had offered to take her to the thing because I was trying to be all macho and chivalric.. or something.) And she kissed me. Great!
Then came the clincher;
Me, in tones of disbelief: Wait, this is a dream, isn't it?
Rowela: Yeah, but you shouldn't complain, because thats the only time you're going to get some.
Not only did I burn the -shit- out of myself, it basically told me what I should have been thinking from the beginning anyways.
On the other hand, my dreams have also contained such little gems as 'Oh what the christ, why are we badgers?' -- so its not all metaphysics.
I mean, I could go on and on here-- I told Hamtor, Bond, and Tom some more of the details of my latest dreams, but the one I neglect to mention was one that really struck me as amusing. Why? Because it was so fucking realistic, down to the -trash- in the stairwells that had been there for a couple days, that it took me awhile to figure out (30 minutes,) that it actually was a dream. Lets not even talk about the fact that it ended with me going to sleep in the clothes I was wearing when I woke up.
Heres the thing though, I'm not complaining. I like it-- my dreams are interesting and wonderful-- they tell stories that I could have never even imagined in my wildest dreams. Even though they're filled with non-sequitirs and the most bloody random things I'd never even be capable of thinking of conciously, they're seriously making me look forward to sleep each and every night-- because I know that they're never going to be the same.
Most nights they're fantastic.
Some nights they're horrifying. (Yes, scary-- the recent zombie dream I had nearly made me shit my pants, twice.)
Some nights they're so real it takes me minutes or hours to differentiate the details. Sometimes I haven't figured out the differences, as the parallels between them and the real life come so close that it baffles even me.
But every single night they talk to me; they fill my mind with brilliance and random shit, and I wouldn't trade it for the world. I've woken up laughing, crying (yeah-- I don't talk about that one, it was so disheartening that it robbed me of the will to move for nearly an hour,) and confused. But in every single case, they've spoken to me about what I've been thinking about.
And I have no idea why its just started now.
Anyways, I think its time to sleep-- I wonder what tonight's edition will be.
~Michael out
I just got done talking about some dudes about this exact thing-- and my mind is still hammering away at it, so instead of just going to bed and attempt to silence my thoughts, I'll write them down. Thats what my Creative Writing proffessor tells me to do, at least.
I started Celexa recently for Anxiety; the doctor I talked too recently thinks that diagnosing me with Depression was most likely a mistake, and instead, that I have something much more akin to anxiety disorder. My bucket gets full, stays full, and the assorted fullness causes difficulties with everything else. Anti-depressents are funky in the way that they can have any number of assorted side effects, but the side effect that seems to have paralleled my exposure to the Celexa is the stuff its done to my dreams.
Yeah, you heard me, my dreams. I talked to my mom about it, and she thinks its highly possible, and has even sited a couple cases where this sort of stuff is the norm. Now mind you, I'm not going to go on to some rant about my dreams have been prophetic or some other medimal bullshit, but more, they've just become extremely vivid. My dreams have always been abstract, fuzzy, and in general, things I forget much more than I remember. In fact, I nearly never had ones that I remembered-- I would fall asleep and wake up seemingly within the space of an instant. When people said, "You know what its like when you have a dream when you realize you're dreaming?" I stood in the dark, totally baffled by this strange phenomenon. When people spoke of the vividity of dreams, so strange and accurate that it was nigh impossible to differentiate them from real-life, I expressed my disbelief in tones of absolute bafflement.
Not anymore. In the weeks since I've gone on Celexa, my dreams have become vivid, realistic, and long. And when I say long, I mean that I wake up and I just got done reading a fucking novel long. My dreams go on and on and on and on. I've had one of the "Oh, I realize I'm dreaming" dreams-- I've had two dreams where I had to actually -talk- to someone to make sure that they were, in all honesty, dreams. (The bastards ended with me getting in bed and going to sleep, in THE SAME GODDAMN CLOTHES I WAS IN.) I've had the "waking up in my dreams to my dorm room, but I'm still dreaming," dreams. I've had quite literally -everything-.
Heres the thing though, screw this prophetic shit that people talk about, my dreams have become fucking satires of my life. My dreams have no metaphysical significance, but they always seem to be about the topics that I'm thinking about. When I was thinking probably too much about Rowela, (rebound syndrome, I think,) my dreams were all about her. And they told me what I alredy knew-- it was a lost cause.
Consider this little gem-- we were sitting there, talking at an amusement park (actually, for a little bit more detail, we were at a First Aid tent, she had gotten dehydrated because she forgot her water. I had offered to take her to the thing because I was trying to be all macho and chivalric.. or something.) And she kissed me. Great!
Then came the clincher;
Me, in tones of disbelief: Wait, this is a dream, isn't it?
Rowela: Yeah, but you shouldn't complain, because thats the only time you're going to get some.
Not only did I burn the -shit- out of myself, it basically told me what I should have been thinking from the beginning anyways.
On the other hand, my dreams have also contained such little gems as 'Oh what the christ, why are we badgers?' -- so its not all metaphysics.
I mean, I could go on and on here-- I told Hamtor, Bond, and Tom some more of the details of my latest dreams, but the one I neglect to mention was one that really struck me as amusing. Why? Because it was so fucking realistic, down to the -trash- in the stairwells that had been there for a couple days, that it took me awhile to figure out (30 minutes,) that it actually was a dream. Lets not even talk about the fact that it ended with me going to sleep in the clothes I was wearing when I woke up.
Heres the thing though, I'm not complaining. I like it-- my dreams are interesting and wonderful-- they tell stories that I could have never even imagined in my wildest dreams. Even though they're filled with non-sequitirs and the most bloody random things I'd never even be capable of thinking of conciously, they're seriously making me look forward to sleep each and every night-- because I know that they're never going to be the same.
Most nights they're fantastic.
Some nights they're horrifying. (Yes, scary-- the recent zombie dream I had nearly made me shit my pants, twice.)
Some nights they're so real it takes me minutes or hours to differentiate the details. Sometimes I haven't figured out the differences, as the parallels between them and the real life come so close that it baffles even me.
But every single night they talk to me; they fill my mind with brilliance and random shit, and I wouldn't trade it for the world. I've woken up laughing, crying (yeah-- I don't talk about that one, it was so disheartening that it robbed me of the will to move for nearly an hour,) and confused. But in every single case, they've spoken to me about what I've been thinking about.
And I have no idea why its just started now.
Anyways, I think its time to sleep-- I wonder what tonight's edition will be.
~Michael out