This Is Not A Dress Rehearsal


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I am sleep deprived. It’s not for lack of trying. I’ve been going to bed at a decent hour….and for the most part I go to sleep immediately.

Then the dreams come. Fast and furious. Disturbing, anxious, powerful, illuminating, enlightening, foreboding.

And not necessarily in that order.

No sense can be made of any of this at the moment. So I’m just going to have to ride this out. Eventually whatever it is that is tripping through my neurons will make sense or just quietly go away.  But usually the reasoning surfaces at some point.

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In a heated interrogation last night I begged for water.

“Just let me wake long enough…its right beside my bed.” I reasoned.

My antagonists allowed this and I woke briefly, though still in the grip of the dream, took a big swallow of water then returned to the interrogation. I was never fully awake and the why’s and wherefore’s of how I came to be in this situation remained in the shadows of the dream.

As stated last week I am feeling a great deal of anxiety and frustration. An internal flogging of sorts seems to be going on. I am feeling frozen, stuck in the mud and fighting to get out only to sink deeper.

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There are any number of factors as to why I may be feeling like this. But it’s 8:55 AM and I am exhausted.

Meditation might assist in taking me to the sleep realm but it certainly hasn’t been able to prevent the vicious hounds of doubt and fear from nibbling at my consciousness or rather my subconscious state.

I am reading a label on my banana that says ‘Mix…Peel the Love…Dole’ and wondering what the hell it means.

Ah yes, indeed I am sleep deficient if I’ve given myself over to reading labels on fruit and pondering their meaning.

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I am awaiting the caffeine to kick in. Somehow I think this morning would require Espresso being fed intravenously in order to be effective.

At the heart of the matter is the simple fact that I am not happy with myself at this point in time. I feel stagnant. There is much to be done and there is this side of self that has a tendency to take an extended break.

So during last night’s attempt at rest, I was in fact berating this deal breaker of mine and explaining that this is not a dress rehearsal. This is life. If you’re going to show up, you’d better know your lines. There are no do-overs.

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Or something to that effect.

And while I am feeling physically bloated and ineffective, this is just another of those torments I tend to put myself through. Instead of being kind and caring to myself after the physical beat down from the cancer crap last year, I am both drill sergeant and cadet.

I wonder why I expect so much from myself?

But I must be a little kinder, a little gentler else the whole of it will simply disintegrate. And I think that’s where the angst and fear is coming in to play. Moving beyond all this is unfamiliar to me, no test run, no parachute. It really will be sink or swim. And if there is one thing I am exceptionally good at, it’s sinking.

Another odd thing of note has been the proximity of time that I awaken each night.  I’ve gotten into the habit of checking the clock upon waking.  This too I’m not certain as to why.  The times have been almost exact the last eight evenings.

They are as follows.  1:34 AM, 2:08 AM, 3:33 AM (and if I miss that one then) 4:13 AM, 4:43 AM (the alarm goes off at 4:45 AM most mornings).  I am typically too tired to hit the gym these mornings though I managed a couple of times last week.  Another general piss off.  So whatever the correlation between these times and the fact that during sleep I am fully engaged in exhaustive mind tripping.

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Ah well.  Back to work.  Focus! Focus! Focus!

Til later.  Peace.

 

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