Saturday, January 9, 2010

Mr. Sandman, Stop Bringing Me Dreams.

Every time I decide to sober up for even a few days I forget that it means I'll start dreaming again. So here I am, three days on the wagon (and still without the slightest desire to drink) I've suffered from three nights of bizarr-o dreams. I also think I've been sleeping later because I'm so deep into my dream world. One night I was a kindergarten teacher, because, "All you need is a B.A. to teach." Then last night I dreamt my bank account was cleared out, not from rent being paid, but because someone somehow got access to my information. What was purchased was all this strange clothing and shoes, from Asian stores. After repeatedly calling Bank of America without getting an answer (This happens all the time in my dreams, I'm freaking out trying to call 911 or something, but no one ever answers.) a ban representative finally picks up and I tell them the situation and how I know it's some Asian girl who bought all this stuff. Weird and pointless. All of these dreams started off when I dreamt I was dating this really tall dude with some germ disease that made him hairless and have to bath in bleach. He was also kind of verbally abusive, and even in my dream I thought, "Am I that desperate and pathetic that I'm dating this guy?" He was gross and I woke up feeling gross because of him. THANKS. Even dream boyfriends aggravate me.
I'm surprised how vividly I can remember these dreams, I guess it's because nothing really happened in any of them. They're more repetituous than anything, but they still leave me waking up feeling anxious. This doesn't deter me from my mission of sobriety. I need to keep my mind clear so I can write. While I'm awake I've already been more creative and clever, writing down tidbits of dialogue or sketch ideas. Something I haven't done in awhile. Aside from not dreaming nothing else good has come from alcohol, and I believe I've finally realized that. It's taken long enough, right?