Drommar

You invaded my dreams last night, for no reason that conscious me can ascertain or is willing to admit.  However, unconscious me, the asleep me, the one that I have no real control over got a full blown sighting of you last night. It was not a snippet of a dream, not some cameo appearance where you walk onto, and off of stage leaving only the merest trace of your existence. No, this was a full blown starring role, a central role, a main character in some odd drama that played out while conscious me was asleep at the switch (literally and figuratively).

The details of the dream are not overly important, and to relate them here would probably just make it that much worse. Suffice to say that dream you, and unconscious me were getting along like a house on fire, as friendly as friendly can be. The bible was discovered and read with some vigor, and I hate you for it. Or, at least I think I should hate you for it. Truth be told I think the correct feeling I should be experiencing is self-loathing. I go out of my way to NOT think about you on a daily basis, that task is one I set for myself when you 'set sail for Singapore' as it were, and it has become easier and easier to accomplish the further you sailed from my shores. However, it seems that some part of my unconscious just hasn't read the memo that conscious me has been circulating around the office of my mind on a daily basis, and decided to dredge you up from the depths that I cannot fathom, or more worryingly control.  A dreamboat that comes sailing back into the port of my mind without any conscious thought on my part, and certain without the proper authorization. 

The barrier reef that conscious me erected to attempt to forestall this dreamboat sailing back into the port of me was overcome as easily as a fat man's willpower as he trundles past a bakery in the early morning mists of what has become an all too familiar day.  This dreamboat that represents you, plows over my sad attempts to stop it as easy as a hot knife slices through butter. It is not a pleasant experience, at least to conscious me. Unconscious me, that turncoat of Benedict Arnold like proportions, thinks your sailing back into its 'life' is just peachy. Unconscious me is a complete bastard, he doesn't have to struggle to forget your existence on a daily basis. He doesn't have to wonder if he is going to accidentally bump into whilst rounding the next corner. He has it made, and worse is he knows it.

Unconscious me knows that in any spat that he and I have, he is ALWAYS going to win. I can't stop him, I can't really even hope to contain him. It is a very similar feeling that Verbal Kent expressed in the Usual Suspects, 'how do you shoot  the devil in the back? What if you miss?"  How do you stop unconscious me? Not sleeping? Eventually that attempt is going to be fruitless after about 48 hours, you are going to sleep, whether you want to or not, and then unconscious me is going to wreck havoc like Sherman marching through Georgia.  Unconscious me is not a man who likes to be denied his play time.  Therefore, not sleeping is not really an option, it merely makes unconscious me angry, and I don't think I want to make him angry, after all, he conjures up you to punish me when he is just in, what for him, is a 'good' mood. I would hate to see what demons, and you are I am sad to inform  you, a demon, he would terrorize me with if he was angry. Visions of my disappointed 2nd grade teacher flash through my mind and I shudder with horror.

The other option, and it is one that I've tried once or twice when unconscious me gets rowdy, is the little pink pill. Or actually 2 pink pills, since one them isn't quite enough to knock me as far out as I need to be. Once again, a bad option, and a slippery slope that I do not want to start sliding down on a too frequent basis. Once other option is available but it is beyond the pale for the moment. Therefore, the only two options are bad, and worse, leaving me at the mercy of you and unconscious me. An alliance that I never thought I would see, and yet one that you (even if you don't realize it) and unconscious me are lording over me like Cambridge does when they beat Oxford in the Great Race. There is no real way to stop this unholy alliance from having its own little reign of terror over me on a nightly basis, and for that I resent you both. There is fuck all I can do about it, and I am not a fellow that like feeling helpless, but helpless I am. Crushed between the Scylla that is you and the Charybdis that is unconscious me.

There is no lock that conscious me can construct that unconscious me does not have the key for, no plan that awake me can concoct that asleep me can't foil. This must be what the fucking Joker feels like all the damn time. All of these wonderful schemes and plans that are just destined to fail, to falter like an overly tired horse in the last furlong before the finish line of life.  As the lids droop, and the last vestiges of conscious thought start to fade to black, conscious me shudders at the thought of a pissed off again unconscious me unleashing hell in our shared psyche.  Fais de beaux reves!