Same dream every night, a group of mutilationists terrorizing the neighborhood’s female population. They come into your bedroom and wake you up by caressing your hand, which puts them in a daze for about 30 seconds. If you can wake up during that 30 second window, you’re safe, otherwise you’re dead. I try to wake up but can’t. Every night a slayer comes in my room, caresses my hand, takes a shiv and shoves it into my groin, it hurts alot, soaks the sheets and then I wake up.
Jane says it’s probably not a small side effect anymore, but maybe a real reason to go off Celexa. I could start keeping records, but I need to work with it, and keeping records is something else. I don’t know. I wish Jeff was here. I just don’t think I’d be having nightmares if Jeff was here. At least not the sleeping kind.
I’m going to have to tell my doctors that the meds work best when I take them with alcohol. They won’t like it but the facts are always friendly and need to be dealt with.
How To Know I’m Becoming Psychotic:
1. Endurance walking.
2. Intolerant of everyday stupidities.
3. Speech clipped, omit articles.
4. Cruelty, poking at people for fun.
5. Thinking decontextualized, out of sync with surroundings.
6. Light shoplifting, minor vandalism, whoring, time-travel.
7. Adrift, let anything happen to me, things disappear faster than they used to.
My psychiatrist came up with this today: Childhood is like a spread of wet cement that the surrounding adults write in. The cement hardens and the kid gets stuck in the imprints, tripping and stumbling inside the grooves. But since the ridges are set in cement the kid has her whole lifetime to figure out how to walk around them and which to avoid falling into. Hooray.
“I’m just here observing,” I said. How the hell would I know? Don’t ask stupid questions. You need a reason to stay clean just think of the example you’re setting for the other drunks.
I dreamt I was in Dr. Robert’s office telling him about my talents and he was staring out the window, so I switched to my failings and he jumped up and said “for 80 dollars I can give you 80 means of impulse control or 80 means of immediate gratification, your choice.” Then I was sleeping in my bedroom and he came in, tapped me on the shoulder and said, “it’s time to wake up.” We were walking to the drug store when a little girl at the bus stop was crying because her mother made her wear so many coats she couldn’t move. Dr. Robert knelt before her and peeled away each coat til her hair turned flaxen, then she turned and skipped away. He and I sat down in a booth and a nurse brought us 2 chocolate malts. There was something wrong with mine. I asked for his milkshake and he said, “my name’s not Bobby.” I kept stirring my milkshake but it wouldn’t coalesce. Dr. Robert said that was fine.