Ko-Fi

Sunday, February 26, 2017

Sleep? Never Heard of It.

It's 4:30am and I cannot sleep.  Again.

This has been an issue for the past couple of months.  There have been several reasons for it.  My new job's schedule had later hours that pushed my schedule back a bit.  I've been stressed out about a few things, depressed about others, there was some heartbreak somewhere in the mix, and I'm doing without certain crutches I used to rely upon.

So it's not like I can just wave a magical wand and snap out of it.

Right now, my brain is gnawing on a bone I wish it would just bury and forget already.  But no, in those hours where sleep is the goal, my brain likes to spend time with the most painful and depressing subjects.  It's no use, really.  No matter how much time it spends, there will not be a happy ending.  It's another mark in the Loss column and really it's time to move on.

But no.  Some part of my brain has decided there is a bit of marrow hidden in this bone and it's worth gnawing on some more.

These last few months, when I have slept, have given me some incredibly powerful dreams.  My subconscious mind was worried about me.  I was on my way down and it was screaming at me to pull up out of my nose-dive into oblivion.  Begging me, with all it could muster, to see that I should stick around for a while longer.

My dreams never give me a reason to stay.  I find that odd.  Instead of making a logical argument listing out the reasons for why I should stick around and then ranking them according to some matrix involving the various rewards and merits of each, my brain simply says that I should.

I'm not afraid to die.  I've died before.  Several times, even.  I've experienced a quantum suicide.  I've felt my spirit slip from my body.  I've seen glimpses of the other side.  And I have somebody waiting for me over there.

It feels like a piece of me is still there and that's why I'm not fully engaged in this world.  It's why often times people are just shadows moving through fog to me.  And when I do connect with somebody, that rare case when I see somebody clearly and they see me, those connections are incredibly important.  I latch on to those people because they become a tether for me.  They are my safety line.

I did a summoning spell a week or so ago.  I'm not sure on the day because they all run together for me right now.  My harbingers never came back.  Nobody came back.  Nobody answered my call.  I wasn't enough.  Or I wasn't right.  Or I wasn't something or too much of the wrong thing and so all I heard was silence.  Again.

I'm sick of silence.  I'm sick of being ignored.  I want to light a fire so big nobody ever ignores again.

It's 4:42am and still, I cannot sleep.

I remember when I was learning to astral project.  A guardian came to be with me.  I heard his garments rustling as he moved to my side.  I was ready for the deep plunge but I couldn't get the vibrations right.  Something was wrong and I failed again and again.

And then suddenly, one night, I blasted out.  I saw my neighborhood as if I were an owl.  I saw the magnificent night, the dark beauty, from a place of comfort and peace.  It's been hard getting back to that.  I've tried and I'll keep trying.  It's important.

I remote viewed one time, too.  Beginner's Luck.  Remote viewing has beginner's luck for those who work with it.  Great results that first time and then after that a long road of work to get back there.  It's weird.

If I could do it again, there are people I'd like to visit.  People I'd like to see again.  But then again, what would I see?  And could I honestly take such an emotional beating?  The last time, I watched something that hurt me terrible--a woman who had just broken up with me was fucking the guy she left me for.  I wish I hadn't seen that.

Seems like everything is tinged with those sorts of emotions anymore.  It all hurts.

It has been suggested to me I should get a service dog because that would force me to be more active, get out of bed, put on clothes, and go outside.  It would force me to walk.  It would force me to interact with the world around me.

It would cut through the fog that seems to be growing denser and denser by the week.  And it would give me a reason to give a shit about what's going on in this world.  Because right now, I don't.  I care so little about this world I reach out into other worlds just for some kind of contact.

But that summoning spell was weak.  I need to do it up right if I'm going to call out.  I need to do it right and blast a beacon so bright and loud the angels will have to make an effort to ignore it but the demons won't be able to resist it.

It's 5:00am now.  My job has cut my hours so severely I doubt I'll have more than 10 on this paycheck.  I'm left with a question:  do I hold out and assume this is a temporary slowdown that will pick up soon or do I jump ship for another job and the potential of an even shittier situation?

How much time should I give this job to get its shit together and give me the hours I need?  Or do I just give up on them now and bail?

My brain is gnawing on that question, too.  I prefer it, in a way, because that doesn't always circle back to a statement about my failures as a human being the way the other issues always do.

Last week somebody told me to never let a woman know I don't believe in Happy Ever Afters.  Because I don't.  Sure, some people have them.  But not me.  I don't even believe in a happy tomorrow, much less the rest of the tomorrows.  My friend said that women believe in them and even if they didn't, there's a part of them that wants to believe in them, so they buy into the fantasy.

Maybe I should believe in Happy Ever Afters.  Maybe if I did believe in them, something might change, and I won't feel like the guy who pissed of Fate.

But what in the hell would my Happy Ever After look like?  I don't even know anymore.  I used to.  I used to know what I wanted.  But it was denied me for so long, I gave up, because hope is cruel and painful.

I realize now why none of my dreams give me a reason to be here.  I'm not supposed to have a reason.  Happy people don't ask themselves why they are still here.  The only people who question it are miserable fuckers like me.

And life isn't supposed to be like this.






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