Sunday, April 22, 2012

Hold on a Second

That last post didn't really convey my usual humorous self, so I think I should try again.


I don't think I need to do drugs. Here's why; those existential moments we all here our stoner/tweaker friends talking about when they, like, swear they could taste Neptune? I get those from sleep deprivation.

I once had a dream where I was thinking over my life and some more stressful problems I was facing at the time. I was alone in a white expanse, talking to myself and pulling up visual aids as needed, like a chalkboard to draw out what I was thinking. I'm a pretty rational guy who likes to plan and think things out a lot, so this really isn't that unusual of a scenario for me.

Here's where it gets weird: after deciding I needed to bounce my ideas off of another person, I split into maybe five or six copies of myself, each one a single facet of my personality. We proceeded to argue over my usual thought process, and there were a number of interesting moments as Practicality put Intellectualism into a headlock, which led to Caution taking a step back, Rage getting over-excited and teaming up with Angst to beat the living shit out Reason, who sidestepped the whole situation by concluding that as a projection of my own consciousness, he did not actually exist.

Libido just sort of walked off after making a load of crass comments. I wasn't sure where he went until months later, when he sent me a post card from Rio de Jeneiro. He wrote of his many exploits and confirmed my long held  suspicions that if I had less things going on in my head, I'd probably get laid.

When I woke up, I concluded that I should probably see a doctor about this. Then I checked my pulse, got a glass of water, and went back to sleep. I don't remember having any other dreams after that.

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