Mental Health, Random

Awake, Part 9

Asleep or awake I let you down…

I woke up two hours earlier than my normally early wakeup time (of late, anyway). Between 2000 and 0130, I had some potent dreams.

It is daytime to evening. My brother and I are young. He’s like how I usually remember him, not how he is now. No dreadlocks and wants to play with big sister. We live in a large, rustic home. (We never lived in one of those, but it is a dream of mine to do so. See what I did there?) We’re young, but old enough to have a party because Mom and Dad are out. However, we don’t count on how rambunctious our friends and neighbors are. We don’t count on the damage internal and external. We don’t count on the unknown unknowns. We know what we can count on, though. So, we rush to bed before Mom and Dad get home. (We used to do this when we were little, it if it was too early for sleep, we’d hide under our bed.) We can’t clean everything or fix the destroyed things. We can’t freeze time to make it look like nothing happened. This isn’t Rick and Morty. Dad will be pissed. We will owe him some of the money we somehow have (because it’s a dream!). We’re out $935 apiece. We’re out the pieces of us that drifted away in fear. We’re out the words lodged at us in anger that drifted in one ear and out the other. I am wondering if all my wrongdoing could be quantified in a dollar amount. But, who would I pay? What would it solve?

Somehow, it is now the first day of school. I have to get my class schedule and arrive to homeroom by 0730. There’s a problem with my check-in, as usual. My brother’s goes smoothly as usual. They’re trying to find me via identification number. I happen to remember it off my head. But, it’s not my old P.G. County student ID of 13 years. It’s one of my user IDs to access a database at work. In a half-lucid state, I realize the numbers are the same, but in a different order. I wonder why, at 32, I never dream of failing at my job. I dream of whole semesters not attending class, unsubmitted assignments, final exams I haven’t studied for. I dream of FAILING school (which I came close to my third year of college, surprise!) and never getting to work on the first place.

Dear subconscious… What the hell? Is daydreaming of failure not enough? Must you incorporate it into my night dreams and make me think on it while I lie sleepless? You are greedy. You are unforgiving. You play the victim unceasingly. I need you, and conscious, and conscience to get together. Have it out. Figure out what burden is weighing so heavily on the three of you and why the only catharsis you can come to without violence is keeping me awake or thinking my dreams. Get your shit together. I want to dream about winged unicorns and leprechauns and other mythical beings and things that die when I wake up.

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