Once the nightmare ends it's all over, so that's not something to look forward to, not even a little bit. Of course once you realize that waking cramps give you nausea, you realize that consciousness is simply a series of quaking daymares. Who offers nightmare help? Who can give you nightmare help? Who can make you stop aching and quaking and breaking out in that cold chatter of a sweat. Who can strip the images of horror and pain and fear from your mind? If you go to a psychologist and get nightmare help, do they drag out a big magnet and erase your mind? Nightmare help is an oxymoron, there's no help for nightmares. Get a grip.

A typical nightmare goes like this:

I'm already hung-over and I ain't even violating several billion international laws of edict... educate... i.e. I ain't awake yet? I'm smoking with the pope on his deathbed while playing pong on dial up, good luck with that.

The sleep that glues my eyes shut is the sleep that I've been missing every night for seven days a week for as far back as I can remember... Wars... molestations... pubescent beers and cigarrettes at dawn feeling full of aggravation and sweat and heartache and bill-collectors and oppressive heat sucking your life away.

I spend so many days navigating so much sewage that you wanna go all Howard Hughes on some sweaty jaundiced diarreah vietnam latrine, or go be married to a ring of fire, or see god actually allowed to finally rest in pieces so he can be dug up years later and put back together all wrong, the directions are always wrong.... so then who's really to blame? You tell me...

You say I'm insane, let us all kiss our ashes good-bye, cuz' they're all lost in the wind no matter what these words say, exhale and enjoy. It doesn't matter if your mom used fabric softener or not, fire up some extra hot wings and feed me some babes gone wild, you know, the phantom that ate the kid on the back of the milk carton, the one in a million.

No wait a minute, I'm no hero, I'm one scared puppy and I'm angry and tired and beat and ravished and on fire.

Now man, before I have you replaced by some computer generated fantasized assistant...

I'm pained and chased by the boogeyman and have issues and am screwed and everything else you can think of. Is that the alarm? Is it time to wake up? Am I asleep and have I been for as long as I can remember?

sooty...
dirty...
like some fake greasy internet slut...

But I digress..

My ship has come in so I gotta' go. But where do I go and why do I go and what do I do and will it be any different when I wake up? Of course not, because the subconscious is the big brother of reality and it is what it is. The reason that you have daymares or nightmares or need help at all come from something that happened to you at some point while you were awake, somebody blew trust right out of your brains. And so now you are terminally stuffed with fear and pain and angst. Try Nirvana, it might work for a few weeks, but in the end you might understand why Kurt Cobain did what he did, because he couldn't escape the horror no matter how much he tried.