Dreaming of Mister President

I'm running two marathons at once here.

One marathon is dealing with the effluvia from my past that has been stirred up by the present. The other is the marathon of the present. The biggest problem is that I'm doing it simultaneously and it appears that my brain won't shut up.

I haven't remembered my dreams in years. I actually used to be a lucid dreamer. I could guide my dreams all night long and be an active participant in them. It was the ultimate computer game. It all ended in the months when my stbx was out to sea and I worked full time and went to school and had a baby and a toddler to look after. Stbx came home from the boats and complained how tired he was. I think that was the first and last time that I had an all out piss fit against him. I used to work on the boats too and if I were to compare eight months of working on the boats to eight months of juggling two kids, a full time job, and school, the boats would be a vacation. But thinking about anyone but himself never entered his consciousness. All I was looking for was a single sentence..."Wow, you must be tired." That's all. A simple acknowledgment that what I did was exhausting.

I believe that is when my brain broke.

I only remember about three dreams since then. Nothing spectacular. Just random dreams throughout the years.

Until now that is. Now I battle demons all night long. I'm kidnapped, tortured, chased down by cars and run over, stalked through the woods, and murdered every which way you can think of. And that was just last night. When I roll over and try to go to sleep, my brain flashes forward to the police report and what was done in the recent past and once again, it all devolves into nightmares and sorrow.

I also don't sleep well. That is another side effect of breaking my brain fourteen years ago. I sleep in fits and starts, waking often, laying awake often, and getting up in the morning even more tired than when I went to bed. Consequently, I take nine or ten hours at night in bed to get five or six hours of sleep. I listen to a lot of books on CD.

Take drugs you say? If I want benedryl to work for me, I have to take at least five. Once you get to that level, you start to be concerned about overdosing. If I'm going to overdose, I don't want it to be by stupid accident, I want a Marilyn Monroe send off with tons of pills, nudity, and the love of a sitting president. (Good thing I'm a fan of Michelle Obama too, that's all I'm sayin').

Any other sleep drug wakes me up. For I live in Bizzaro World.

I think I just need to watch a lot of Buffy the Vampire Slayer before I go to bed. My demons are many but perhaps, with a couple of cute sidekicks, I can kick some nocturnal ass.

Either that or I need a shiny low cut dress and a breathy voice in which to sing.

When is Barack's birthday anyway?