She tries to comfort me, saying "It's just a dream. You're okay. We're all safe. Go back to sleep."
And I think to myself, "How fucking cliche! Tormented by personal demons in my sleep! How original. Maybe I should write an absurd poem about it!"
Again, I think to myself (who else does one think to?), "Perhaps these experiences are brought on by my profound uniqueness...yes, of course!"
So she says to me, "What are we going to do? You're thrashing around every night like you're fighting for your life."
I tell her that it's just the stress of trying to get a new job. I tell her that once things settle down and we get into a routine that all will be set straight.
The truth, however, is that these nocturnal battles are not a fight for my life. I am battling for all life. Not only am I battling for all life, I am battling for the principles that give meaning to all life. These fights could be broadcast on digital cable for a fee of $29.95 and people would get to see a battle where eye-gouging is allowed. But the eyes gouged are mine. People would get to see me lose this battle, again and again. Richard Butler was onto something when he said that she said
"This is it. That's the end of the joke."
You are special and unique! You are asleep!
This one seemed like such an actually-happened real-life entry until it got to the what-am-I-battlin'-4 part - I was disoriented by how honest it seemed! signed, johnny dexatrim
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