I haven’t had a “good night’s sleep” probably since December 23rd of last year.

     It’s not for lack of trying, mind you. But since certain events have unfolded in my world, and I have slipped into this depression, it’s been tough to get a solid four hours of sleep, let alone a decent six. And most of that has to do with my dreams.

     For the past couple months all of my dreams have been these surrealistic, very involved, almost hyper real tumbles where I am lost while questing. There have been homes by rail yards full of boxes and demon mutant squatters, castles where tourists can play royal crusader, strange spirit-like guides, possessed man eating furniture, and so on.

     The most common thread through all of them is the sense of being lost while looking for something. They’re very physical, too; often I’m worn out when I wake up, feeling very, very sad. They are such an issue that so much so I often dread going to sleep because of them. Usually I try and tucker myself out real good so that I can just drop off into sleep and be lucky I either miss them, or they are brief.

     But dreams are more often than not a sort of window into our subconscious; built off of what’s churning in our minds during our waking hours. And with my life in a bit of a free fall now having lost that special thing in my life, well…

     I am listening, though I wish they’d maybe slow down, talk a little lower, and maybe make some better sense; I am trying to learn and maybe find some take-away from this. But I will say this; they sure are never dull or boring.

    Not that I couldn’t use the change, mind you.