Am I dreaming? I have to be! Right? Normally, they say “pinch yourself” to see if it’s a dream. My dreams are a little more intense. I can feel pain in my dreams, so pinching doesn’t do the trick. Usually, I can tell, or I die. Since I’m not dead, and I woke up (yes, I’ve had dreams within dreams within dreams before, so it’s no guarantee), I’m thinking this is real.
But how can this be real? How can I go from a canyon-deep low to such a euphoric high in the matters of weeks? It’s not like there haven’t been ups and downs along the way, but this feels different. In the past, there have been red flags that my gut/instincts have screamed in my face that I’ve ignored, and it’s cost me dearly. I do not see those right now. Am I blind? I admit it could be a possibility, but my gut isn’t yelling at me. My instincts aren’t telling me to shut the fuck up and listen. Am I being manipulated? I’ve been manipulated by the best, and so far, this isn’t like anything before.
In life, the race isn’t finished until I’m dead. There are many possible pitfalls that might show up. I am cognoscente of the possibility that something out of the blue might fuck it all up, but it won’t be by my doing. I might be blind or being manipulated; however, this is also a trick our mind uses to reason something into reality, or reason to extinction. Yesterday, I wrote about this. My mind can trick itself into believe anything my lack of confidence wills. I will not allow it to create doubt when my instincts are not requesting doubt, when my gut isn’t telling me something is wrong.
I ignored my gut at the beginning of my current clusterfuck. My instincts were telling me to wake the fuck up. I reasoned myself to believe that I was just paranoid due to previous circumstances. I could write a book on all the red flags I ignored. It’s my own damn fault really. Now, everything is my fault. I’m not helping enough, even though I’ve spent the last four years doing everything in my power to help, yet be ignored until I finally snap and say “fuck it.” Yeah, it’s my fault for not carrying and helping enough. Complete bullshit.
I’m ending a nightmare of which I am still unsure of how bad and damaging it is. I’m entering a dream that is far beyond expectations. The psych field will say it’s relative. Maybe this dream seems so great because your nightmare was so horrible, or the nightmare might seem far worse than it was because the dream is so good. You know what? Who the fuck cares?! If all you had to eat was Spam, and you finally got to eat at Olive Garden, do you care it’s not a Morton’s Steakhouse? Fuck no! For all you know, it could be the same. Having said that, my life hasn’t been shit for 42 years. I’ve eaten Spam, and I’ve been to Morton’s a few times. In this food analogy, this dream is like eating at a chef’s table with a chef, who has been awarded a dozen Michelin stars, personally cooking for me. This is how much of a difference this is.
Am I dreaming? Everything in my perception is saying no. No demons, ghosts, witches, or military have come to kill me yet. Things are not jumping around to different weird settings. When I piss, I feel relieved and not like I constantly have to piss more, like in a dream (no, I don’t piss the bed). My mind is trying to reason it into being a dream because it cannot comprehend how I can be so fortunate. You know what? If it is a dream, fuck it! I hope I never wake up! Put me on life support; I’m good.