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I Don't Want To Fall Asleep

Jason Rimbaud


I can't sleep, or I'm afraid to sleep, to face the dreams that haunt me. It started last Friday night. My eyes are bloodshot, dark circles line my face, and I can't seem to find solace. Sunday morning I woke up, the light from my window burning my eyes and my head pounding. I don't work Sunday so I clean the house, I do laundry and veg out in front of the TV. Sunday night I wake up, my alarm clock is blinking, I had the same nightmare. I can't go back to sleep. I go through all day Monday feeling listless and tired. My boss tells me I look sick, I say I'm only tired.

I go home, I have a beer. I pass out on the couch. Three hours later I wake up, the nightmare fresh in my mind. I can't go back to sleep, I can't seem to find solace. Not even in drugs, I bought Vicadin from a friend on Tuesday. I pop three pills, three thousand milligrams, I need to sleep. But now I'm trapped inside the nightmare, I couldn't wake up, and when I did, my sheets were soaked and I had claw marks on my face.

I go to work Wednesday and drift around the restaurant, my mind unfocused. Customers complain that I forgot things, my boss calls me into the office to talk to me, I fell asleep. He sends me home after asking what's wrong with me. I can't tell him, I don't know. I manage to eat without throwing it up, I watch TV. I drink a pot of coffee, I don't want to sleep. I wake up on the couch, my pants are wet from the coffee I spilled. I go to the gym and climb on a treadmill, I start to run. Three hours later I pass out, I'm thirsty, I must've forgot to drink water.

Thursday night after work, I buy an eightball of cocaine from a friend. I'm determined not to let this nightmare grip me again. I brew a pot of coffee, I do lines all night. I type feverishly at the computer, the words I write meaningless and intelligible. I do more lines, I drink another pot of coffee. I'm awake, but I feel like I've been kicked by a mule. I go to work Friday morning, my boss sends me home and suggests I seek help. He's worried about me, I understand but I still don't know why this nightmare is haunting me.

I go and buy another eightball, I've been up for three days, I wonder if my mind is finally sick enough not to dream. My heart is sick, it's pounding so hard I feel like I have heartburn, my thoughts won't make sense anymore, words are mysteries that I can't comprehend. I smoke a cigarette but it made me sick to my stomach. I open a bottle of wine but it's tasteless, my throat is too numb. I try to lie down but the act of being prone causes my head to hurt again. I see dust on the TV and a sink full of dirty dishes. Someone must've thrown up in the sink, I see that too. Maybe I don't exist. Or maybe I'm in hell.

I take a shower, but I can't recognize the figure staring back at me in the mirror. My ribs are sticking out, maybe I should eat. Though I'd probably throw it up anyway. I do a few more lines, the eightball is nearly gone. I cut my arm with the razor, I want to know if I can feel. I don't, but I am mesmerized by the blood streaming down and how it pools on the carpet. I laugh, I wonder just how big of a puddle I can make it. I reach for the razor again.

And that's when I wake up screaming. I've had this dream three nights in a row. I usually don't analyze my dreams, but this one kind of frightened me. What is my mind trying to tell me? Is there a meaning or is this the product of my imagination? But what really worries me, like in the dream, tonight is the fourth night. If I dream it again, will I buy pills tomorrow? Did I just dream my own future, did I just witness my own...? Great, now I'm scared to fall asleep.

Fuck, I miss Daniel right now.

Jason R.


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Obviously I am completely unable to determine what is in your mind. On the other hand, I DO know that if I take any kind of drugs, anything stronger than aspirin or Tylenol, I will get bad dreams that trap me. I will fling sheets and pillows across the room, trying to get away. My assessment, for what it's worth, is that you should do a proper cleansing. I suspect you are so toxic that you are walking poison to yourself. Although the nightmare is probably a function of your subconscious, it is anchored by the toxicity of your system. You are warning yourself, in essence, trying to rescue yourself. Do what your boss said, and seek help, but forgo the psychological stuff. Seek out a naturopathic doctor, ASAP, and get treatment for what's in your system. Believe me, even the wrong 'normal' food can be highly toxic. Things like coffee, wheat, booze can be slow but deadly poisoners. Make the appointment NOW, for TODAY. Go.

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If I were there I'd give you a huge hug. Sorry I'm not.Is it totally out of the question to give Daniel a call?Take care,Camy

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The good news is, I did not have this dream last night. Matter of fact I slept like a baby. So maybe it was just a dream caused by my over active imagination.And Trab, that's the funny thing. I'm actually pretty sober lately. I've stopped doing pills all together, I haven't done cocaine in several months. And though I have a few beers a week and maybe a bottle of wine, I stay sober most of the time. So I think this dream is just that, a dream. Because I'm doing well, and mostly staying out of trouble. But thanks for the concern, and Camy, I did call Daniel today and we're going out for dinner on Sunday. Just him and I, he'll leave the boyfriend at home. Woot.Jason R.

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I did call Daniel today and we're going out for dinner on Sunday. Just him and I, he'll leave the boyfriend at home. Woot.Jason R.
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