Sleepwalking my way through life: The science of sleep



The science of sleep

I have a Psychology test coming up within the next hour. But, instead of studying diligently, I am being forced to Blog.

I'm having the strangest dreams these days. Little situations and scenes that invade my subconscious and make my eyes dance under their lids. I experience them in complete reality, not knowing their dreams until the sun filters through my blinds and put to light the farce of my late night experiences.

There was an occasion where my brother and I were relaxing on a couch watching Pulp Fiction when we were recruited to find a missing cat. Grudgingly we searched the mansion and found a secret attic full of stuffed cats, when we confronted the owner she pulled out a sleek silver 9mm and popped a cap in Chris' ass, so to speak.

Before I knew it I was on the run, stumbling down Bergen main street in an attempt to flee my pursuer. I lifted an iron bar from the gutter and began hammering at glass door, yelling at them to let me in now. But too late, for when the doors finally creaked open an inch a bullet flew past my head and I shot off at a run.

Suddenly I was in the countryside, running down a long main road. I tried to wave down any and all buses, but they just sped off without giving me a second glance. With hope running out and my gun wielding pursuer closing the gap between us, I stuck out my thumb in the futile attempt to hitch-hike. A blue car, almost magically, skidded to a stop and opened its door. I clambered in, sparks flying from the door as a bullet hit it, and landed amongst a set of antique furniture.

The car drove off and the driver began conversing with me in Spanish. I explained I couldn't speak Spanish and he gave me the dirtiest of looks. That's when I woke up.

Can anyone analyse that for me? Please? Although the late night imaginings provide some form of entertainment, I am beginning to be plagued with their meanings. And they linger for hours, even days, on end in my head, with you fucking pathetic little cunt ringing in my ears as I sit on my couch and try to pierce their meaning.

Yes, Freud specialists are needed.
« Home | Next »
| Next »
| Next »
| Next »
| Next »
| Next »
| Next »
| Next »
| Next »
| Next »

4 Comments:

At 2:14 pm, Anonymous Anonymous said...

tht sounds freaky jimbob
i think tht all it is is tht u hve an over active imagination n this is manifesting itself
hmm a way to get rid of it is to write it all down.

 
At 4:27 pm, Blogger Jane said...

Why do you always dream in spanish?

 
At 4:49 pm, Anonymous Jules said...

I did not FORCE you.

 
At 4:18 am, Anonymous youngred said...

¿dónde está el banjo?

 

Post a Comment