Something I haven;t done since it was assigned to me in College as part of a course. Likely to be fraught with lots of typos and with lots of weird and whacked sentencesa and grammar because it’s more stream of conscio0usness than what I regluarly do which is already strweam of consciosness writing. I’ve been awake now for less than one minute. This is how we were taught to do it. As soon as you get up, as soon as you awaken, you write, you write everything yuo remember. AWhat I remember first of course is what happeneded last. plunging a large plastic sickle given to me by an old Indo -Canadian man deep into the chest of the vampire and raking it slowly using all my strength as it wasn’t very sharp, through his chest, his gutsk hoping it was enough, knowing if it wasn’t, I was out of options, out of weapons and out of life. I’m not sure why I’m doing this, dream journalling now. When it was assigned to me in college, in a psych course about dreaming where we were all to keep journals, there were some people who had never before remembered a dream in their lives, and were taught how, there were peopel who only remembered occaional dreams, or who dreamed in black and white. Then there was the very odd one, like me. Who dreamt everynight of many days gone by, sometimes, weeks, sometimes years, and when I woke, I was careful to NOT think to clearly on them, to let dreams do what they do naturally and slip quickly away in our memories, because otherwise, if I dwelled on them, the mental time I lived dreaming, the conscious memory of dreaming life, was far far vaster and greater than the time spent waking. My old prof, said that in my case, rathter than journal every day on my dreams, all my dreams, which would not relaly be possible anyways because I could write from waking to sleeping, and still not tell the whole of it, to maybe just write a short bit, every few days. Lest the dreams, take me over. Which they are want to do. When yuo’ve just spent, as I have about a week and a half, falling in love, having your heart broken, overdosing on drugs, making new friends, losing old friends, and fighting off several undead, and trying to hone your flying skills, well, if you dwell on it too much, all that dream crap, it kind of takes on a life of it’s own, maybe because it’s more interesting than morning television, shopping at value village and schdueiling porn shoots, ok, maybe not more interesting, but interesting always in a new way, every night, a night of several new adventures.

Last nights unrequited love from little geek boy dream venue wasn’t all that exciting, but in my dream got me upset enough to take a mild overdose of sedatives, not enough to do me harm, just enough to knock me out for a bit, doesn’t take much analysis that. I couldn’t fall asleep last night and had to take a slightly heftier dose of my new helping me to fall asleep anti agitation medication. I used to be taking seraquil (spelling) but my liver enzymes where going up, and it can do that, so I switched back to an old friend, clonazepam, which is not ‘habit forming’ except for me psychologically, because if I take a high enough dose of it, I get so numb, I can even have ‘black out’ periods… woo hoo, for people who don’t deal with psychotic agitation along with depression, I’m sure this doesn’t sound very appealing, for people like me who do… it’s a temptation at times, ‘escape! escape!’. Anyways, last night was a rougher night so I popped three of my 2mg pills instead of my usual two, which left me with some guilt, and feeling like a pill junkie. ooooooh, 6mg, it doesn’t actually feel like it does that much for me anymore, now 8mg, that would be far far away time. but I’m rationing myself. I’m also off topic, I was going to dream journal.

Now I’m conflicted is my use of prescription medication more interesting than the dreaming about having to battle of multiple vampires? The last one I killed with the plastic sickle was the last of a few. That was a long drawn out battle. At least he gave me a somewhat fair chance to start out with, It didn’t have to be wood, I just had to get to the suckers heart to kill him, he came out of the vampire house (the rest of the vampire colleaugues and humans had already gone the way of the sharp pointy stick/knife what have you) bearing arm loads of pointy items, from ineffectual chopsticks and shishkabob skewers kitchen cutlery, to more deadly stuff like steak knifes, and some spooky looking ‘real knives’. He seemed to think it was amusing to arm me, and so we divied the stuff up equally, such a sporting vampire really, or so he seemed. He even laid aside his double barrel shot gun, which I suppose was only fair since he just had the one. After a long battle of you throw a pointy thing at me and I try and dodge and vice versa, we had kind of come to a stand off, I had managed to score with some pretty ineffectual pointy things, like kitchen hardware, we were out of stuff, and the sneeky bugger said lets call it a truce, I will stop trying to kill you, you can stop trying to kill me, and we’ll go on our merry ways. I said no problem, just let me carry this extra long and pointy stick with me as I walk out of town, I’ll feel just a wee bit better, he graciously accepted and off I went down the block. A neighbour called out a warning when I was about three quarters of a block away and the bugger had the shotgun aimed at me. Definitely not FAIR. I could not throw a pointy stick that far an accurately. I did have a chance to dive for cover and avoide the two bullets exploding my way. I don’t think he had any more, or maybe the reload concept got lost in the dreaming, I threw my stick, silly me, still too far away and landed way off the mark, and Mr. nice guy vampire decided to come on after me with his natural weapons, hands, teeth, that kind of thing. Where and how he got on the bicycle to do it I don’t remember, it’s one of those weird dream things and who cares. It may seem laughable now, but when you’re dreaming your defencelss against a bicycle riding vampire, and your not lucid dreaming, it wasn’t particularly droll. Then old indo-canadian dude with a halloween style reaper style plastic sycle out of know where took a couple of innefectual swats at his back, shrugged, handed me the thing just in time, and using a lot of strength and will power, I managed to lodge it’s mostly dull point somewhere between ribs and collar bone, bear down deep, and then slowly drag along in a vivisecting fashion. Lo and behold, sneeky old vampire dude crumbled, and I now flew happily off. ( I love flying in dreams, but am often not very profficient at it, I have a problem attaining good altitude, and when fleeing vampires, don’t fly away nearly as fast as I would like to).

Now that was the tail end of the dream, and there was LOTS more madness before this, but, if I start into all of that, as I said before, I’ll be writing all day, and the more I write the more I remember, the more I remember the more I seem to dream, and then my dream nights become long sections of life lived, and my days little boring interventions. Which is why my old psych prof with a raised eyebrow said ‘oh, you’re one of those, just write a little piece of it, every day or so’.

I’m still mostly asleep writing this, which is the best way too dream journal, you who are grammar and spelling nazis may not be agreeing with me. I still have heartburn, not from my dreams, but because taking too much clonazepam at night gives me the munchies and I ate 4 uncooked hot dog weiners (for those of you concerened, they are a precooked food, like deli slices, you can’t get ill by them, unless you eat 4 right before bed) along with a huge hunk of cheese, a big spoon full of peanut butter, and several tums antacids, which helped me through the night, but are doing nothing to quell my vampire slayer morning heartburn now, so I’m off, for tums, diet cola, and either back to bed with Wolfe and the pig (Iggy our pug boston terrier dog) or to curl up under the blankets and check out whose decorating what on that channel where people let psycho designers into their homes to put feathers, straw or cardboard on their walls (for those of you who know what I’m talking about… well there must be a we hate Hilde from trading spaces club out there somewhere) The only one of THEM I’d let in my house is vern yip. Okay, I’ve blathered enough half asleep nonsense.

Oh, and by the way, happy new year, merry ho ho, and all that. I need to go lay down now, and find some more tums.

Leila