BEEP-BEEP-BEEP... I hit the snooze button again. "STOP IT... JUST GIVE ME FIVE MORE MINUTES" Reality on a confiscated meat grinder is the last dream image I remember. It makes me hate waking up most of the time. It makes me shiver with the thought. Dreams and nightmares consume me now, most of my waking days that is. At night they hound me like I'm an escaped convict fleeing from my unconscious state. These dreams, these nightmares, they're driving me crazy. Every day I wake up recovering from another nightmare hoping I forget it just as quick as I remembered it. I went to a doctor and asked him about it. He was expensive, so I read from a dream symbols dictionary. The dream symbols dictionary was some help. The dream symbols dictionary helped to explain some of my problems but the dreams didn't stop. The dream symbols dictionary can only help you find the problem, not fix it for you, so for me, at least, the nightmares go on.

Life to me is a mild hallucination; daybreak is relief as I escape to the world of reality that causes me to have these nightmares in the first place. Life leads to nightmares like work and marriage, and I have wild visions of agents of clandestine governments building cases against nameless felons waiting to be charged, daybreak, what a waste the night is, the night that I used to love so much. I say give me shadows and darkness 7 days a week if I could just get past these horrid nightmares.

I now wait for the wonderful daybreak, that time to get up and face the sinners and saints, escape the hell that invades my brain every time I lay down to go to sleep. I think I'll start in the mirror -- finish up in the gutter. It seems like the best place to begin and it seems like the only place to end. What am I selling and to who? I always forget what I'm guilty about, and that dream symbols dictionary couldn't isolate the cause of my guilt.

Maybe its just an unhealthy fear of death, a fear of mortality that we all face, since we're all fleeting and fading and a running series waiting to be cancelled, but I've never been preoccupied by my own mortality. Perhaps it's a reaction to some horrible experience that I experienced in the past, but I don't know. If that's the case I must have blocked it out because I've had a pretty normal life, as far as that sort of thing goes.

Who knows what the problem is. Maybe I'll have to break the bank and go back and see the psychologist. I can't really afford it, but right now I wouldn't put a price on a good nights sleep. I don't think there is one. When you can't sleep, when you are haunted by your dreams, life becomes hell, food becomes stale, you become moody and irritable, and that is me anymore. Man what I wouldn't give for one good night's sleep.

I guess sooner or later something is going to have to give. I'm going to get past this, find out what the root of the problem is, and get some much needed rest, or I'm going to fully break down and crack-up, going past the point of no return. That much is clear, why I can't sleep, that much is still a mystery. If I ever figure it out, perhaps my misery will end.