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      You know when you are in a state of uncertainty about something in your life. Maybe some sort of physical pain is involved, or just maybe a sense you have that something's just not right with you. Sometimes it brings you to tears, other times just a feeling of malaise. And this condition, which you suspect all along should be simple enough to diagnose, baffles every doctor you confide in.
       Then all of a sudden there comes a moment when doctors and their ideas stop you dead in your tracks, you shake your head, then laugh. Because that's all you can do.
       If you can relate, then this little diary is for you.

   

      I've been having a medical problem which I won't go into right now. I went to see a neurologist, he suggested that I have narcolepsy or a different sleeping disorder. He also wanted to schedule a sleep study for me.  
       Upon leaving his office I was handed a brochure listing symptoms of a sleeping disorder. One of which was:
Acting out your dreams.
I paused, shook my head,
then laughed.

Hum...

       Last night I dreamed I was somewhere on vacation with my friends. One night we all went to an art exhibit.
       Joni Mitchell was showing a new series of paintings and sculptures she had done based on the Pink Floyd's album The Wall. And the album was playing at the show.
The exhibit opened to rave reviews.
       Joni said, "As long as they are praising it because it's good rather than the fact I did it."
That was important to her.
       Eventually one thing lead to another and she came back to where we were all staying and she called up some of her friends, and we had a party. We chatted, smoked various cigarettes, ate some steak, drank our wine, and had a great time talking about Syd Barrett, jet lag, and people who own pigs as pets. Eventually the whole dream started to melt and I woke up.
       A short while ago, I had a different sort of dream about Eddie Van Halen. I was where he was. He was the age he is now talking about something in his past. Maybe a memory about how a song came to be, and as you would expect there was an awful lot of partying going on. As he was remembering, his past immediately jumped to life and entangled me in the story as if I was there. But all the time the younger Eddie was shaking his head no, no, no. He was feeling tormented, and anguished.
       I got him to calm down and trust me, and we had a laugh.
       It was as if Eddie, at a younger age could see himself at an older age scolding him for his extra-curricular activities. Which is why he believed he engaged in them in the first place. At least that's what he told me in the dream. And there I was stuck in the middle with the two Eddies arguing with each other. Not knowing what to do.
       And I was confused because the older Eddie gave me permission to do whatever I wanted. All I had to do was to talk some sense into him and get him to stop.
       But how can you warn someone of the dangers they are causing to themselves and the ones they love if you are doing the same things too.
       Then I stepped in, because I was aware I was in this dream, As I was watching myself. I said, "Will you please just for once knock it off, this isn't supposed to be a moral dilemma. It's a dream, why can't you ever have any fun? You're supposed to be having fun."
       If Eddie at any age offers you a line of coke in a dream, what would you do?
       "Oh, no, none for me. It'll be the downfall of your marriage."
       I think I actually said that. Or the older Eddie said that to himself through me. Or my presence for the younger Eddie was an omen to him. And he was treating me as if I was his older self. The older Eddie and I got along fine. We're approximately the same age, cut from the same cloth. He has more money for socks.  
The younger Eddie was friendly, but a mess. And who could blame him?"
       The whole thing ended up in a, there's too many things going on right now, I'll have to get back with you when I can concentrate, situation.
       At some point a compromise was agreed on and I had a fortified beer.

Do I act out or live my dreams?
How I wish it were so, but I'm afraid it's just impossible.

       I'm not a fan of weird interpretations about dreams. Horses mean this, cats mean that, this is an omen of death, if you had a dream and it was a realistic representation in technicolor, of the Tale of Two Cities, it doesn't mean you had a dream about The Tale of Two Cities, it means you are going to win the lottery next Tuesday. I believe dreams are your body's way of taking five. It's free cable TV. And that's it.
       But if I were pressed to explain these dreams in particular, there are some possibilities that present themselves to me.  
       Lets say, divine intervention is real. Maybe at times, I have other people's dreams. And when I have dreams like the ones I described above, (because I have them all the time), that's when the foul up happens.
       Those dreams were not meant for me, but for someone else who actually knows Joni or Eddie. Or, the dreams actually belong to Joni and Eddie. Yet somehow these dreams lose their way and get diverted, and dropped into my state of existence.
Because why not me?
       Then the next question would be if all that is true, do Eddie and Joni, and all the other famous people that find their way into my dreams, have my dreams?
       That we'll never know because if I were to ever meet Joni or Eddie the last thing I would ever do would be to ask them if they ever felt they had a nobody's dream.
        Mainly because I would be too afraid the dreams would stop.
And if I'll never be famous...
At least I have Paris.
       But maybe those dreams are meant for me. They are meant to be an impetus to get my ass in gear to get my artwork out so people will buy it, then I'll be known. Then my dreams will be given away to the next struggling artist as their impetus to get known.
But then you've got to ask, where does it end, and how did it begin?
It's like one long chain dream.
       There is another possibility, and I just now thought of it. You see the nature of these dreams when famous people are involved is very realistic they never do or say anything out of character. They walk and talk and look and smell just like you would expect them to. And they are in an environment that you would expect them to be in. And, there is a problem they are trying to solve, or a situation in which they need a friendly face to accompany them. And when I appear, or they do, it's like they expect me to be there. They just start talking to me like they know me.
       Well there's no other way to say it, so I'll just say it. I should be dead. So maybe God doesn't know I'm not dead. God thinks I'm an angel so I am privy to all this because what does it matter, I work for God now. I'm not going to write a tell-all book.
And God has it's hands full at the moment so it sent me to take care of the small stuff.
       "We divide our kingdom in three. Cordelia, you go long."
At the time of the Big Bang, the idea of having an aortic valve replaced, or an aortic artery repaired was inconceivable. And I should have been dead years before that ever happened because my spine is severely curved. And at the time of the Big Bang, the thought of having a metal rod fused to a spine? Even that was just as inconceivable.
       And there was the time I was actually on deaths door. I thought I had the flu, I had no idea the danger I was in when I went to the emergency room. The doctor later told me my aortic artery was held together by one cell. That's like having a pair of jeans held together with one thread. Immediate surgery was called for. But my cardiologist wanted me to have a cat scan to check on my mitral valve. And if you've ever had that done you know you have to lie down and be injected with a dye.
I said, "I can't lay down on my back for a long time without being in pain." The tech said, "You've got to try."
       And so the tech group of Jennifer, Jennifer, and Jennifer kept poking me unable to find a vein. And I was crying and panting, and they would not let me up. Finally off in the distance, unseen, like an angel himself, I heard a man say, "Get her up she's turning blue." I found out later blood was rushing into my lungs choking me.
And as my body was writhing in pain, I felt a sense of euphoria, and everything turned white, the more pain my body was in the more my spirit was soaring.
       They sat me up and gave me oxygen and called the thoracic surgeon down there stat, and he proceeded to rip everyone a new one.
And I went through that alone, no one I knew was by my side.
But that unseen man off in the distance, that, angel's apprentice saved my life.
But Maybe God doesn't know that.    
       But even if that were true, I've never meet God or talked to God in person. If all this is true I get the feeling I was sent by God's Deputy Chief of Staff's assistant, Donna.
       But still, why me? Maybe it's because with everything I've been through I remain optimistic and I keep plugging away at what I want to do. And maybe I've proven through various tests I can keep my mouth shut, I can keep a secret. Because this business about famous people and dreams has been going on for years, in fact the Eddie dream is just one of many dreams in which our paths crossed. So far it has been the most profound though.
       But the most profound experience I can't tell you about. At least not here, not in this story, maybe some other time.
       But if I get to have these dreams because I've proven in some way my heart is pure and I can keep a secret that means God knows I'm not dead.
And if God knows I'm not dead, I'm no angel.
So just ignore this.
Never mind.
The important thing is I got there.

       I dream in color about 98% of the time. When I'm dreaming, at some point I am aware I'm dreaming. And I can say this dream is stupid, and I decide to quit dreaming it. It's like all of a sudden the dream is like a bad TV show I'm forcing myself to watch. So I turn the channel, or shut it off.
       Sometimes I am able to choose what I want to dream about. When I wake up I'll start critiquing my dreams and say, "That dream was OK, but I'm bored with it. Next time do this." And It'll happen. Other times, I can, manipulate my dreams in progress. When I sense the dream is going off the deep end or heading into re-runs I can say, "Nope I'm sick of that, I've always wanted to go to New Zealand."
       But as I'm sure you would attest from experience, all the great dreams you have end much too soon.
Right before you can get laid, or achieve orgasm.
It did so for me in the Joni Mitchell dream.
Everybody else got their chance to get all aglow,
sharing cigarettes.
As soon as it's my turn,
I get lead to the point where I can...
with a hot sexy guy,
in a cool dark room, with big comfy bed,
and candles and music,
and the guy is right with me.
Then all of a sudden wrong things start to happen,
unwelcome guests start turning into monsters,
talking about politics or the weather.
Then the guy says,
"Follow me, hurry."
Then he leaves the room,
runs down the hall.
I follow him,
as I get to the end of the building he vanishes.
Then I find myself teleported to a shopping center,
or a zoo,
or my parents house,
arguing with them about muffins.
Until I'm left standing in the middle of nowhere waiting for a bus.
Then the melting begins.  

       But sometime before that, I put my foot down.
I said, "Not this time pal. We're going to have sex my way with no encumbrances or interruptions of any kind. You, get in here. This is it. I've had it."
It's rare occurrence, but it does happen. That time I must have shown myself I meant business.

       The funny thing is, I'm not that big a fan of Joni Mitchell. I had one album, Miles of Aisles. It's a great album. Live with The L.A. Express. Eddie, same thing, but a bit different I've seen Van Halen three times. And there's a story. An actual story that takes place in reality. But, that's later.
       I know I don't live my dreams, or act out my dreams, nor could I ever. But I do know I never want them to stop.

       Please believe I mean to no harm, nor is this diary meant to poke fun of people with actual sleeping disorders or narcolepsy. And there are good doctors out there. It's just I've been living with some symptoms for years. And when you're in the midst of it there comes a time when the straw breaks the camels back and you have to give yourself permission to laugh and have at it.
       My new primary care doctor does not think I have narcolepsy or a sleeping disorder. He discovered that I have a severe vitamin D deficiency. Ever since I have been taking 50,000 mgs of vitamin D a week I have started to feel better. And the more scarier aspects of my condition have either lessened or is non-existent.
       And a vitamin deficiency is so easy to figure out, and I've had too many blood tests to count, hundreds. My doctor did say that a vitamin D deficiency as severe as mine can result in neurological problems. He also said that this is a problem that is growing in the state of Arizona. Some reasons suggest themselves to the doctor but so little is known. One is sunscreen. A sunscreen with too high an SPF can cause it. He suggest not going over 30. That wouldn't be my case though. I never use it. It could be pollution as well.
       So, if there is a moral to this story on the medical side it could be the answer might be right on the tip of your nose Doc. With the years I have suffered with some of my symptoms and the cockamamie answers I've been given for the symptoms, such as don't put mayonnaise in my tuna salad, and the bold faced lies told to my face. I'm giving myself the right to let go.
I'm surprised at one point they didn't recommend a course of leeches.

       As for the dreams, there is no moral there, just famous people dropping in to say hello. And could I just do them this one small little favor, or just be there to keep them company.

                                                    ~~~~
                                             ~~~         ~~~

You know?
I can't think of a better way to end this diary than to leave you with this song from Alan Parson's Tales of Mystery and Imagination: Edgar Alan Poe.
"(The System Of) Dr. Tarr and Professor Fether"
I hope you enjoy.
It's soothing.

       

Sleep tight.

 

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Comment Preferences

  •  Tip Jar (5+ / 0-)

    "The whole thing ended up in a stalemate tied three ways. I think I had a beer." Me

    by nellgwen on Sat Jul 14, 2012 at 04:30:13 PM PDT

  •  Sorry if I'm not as attentive as I should be (0+ / 0-)

    Time got away from me and I have to make dinner right now. But I'll be watching the discussion.

    "The whole thing ended up in a stalemate tied three ways. I think I had a beer." Me

    by nellgwen on Sat Jul 14, 2012 at 04:33:04 PM PDT

  •  Spock would say, "Interesting," or (1+ / 0-)
    Recommended by:
    nellgwen

    "Fascinating." I'm still working on that.
    I need to reread this and give it the thought it obviously deserves, at least from me.
    So many things here.
    Hang in there.

    Fuck Big Brother...from now on, WE'RE watching.

    by franklyn on Sat Jul 14, 2012 at 10:36:11 PM PDT

  •  Thanks, nellgwen. Made my Sunday. (0+ / 0-)

    I get tired of the daily political rat-race, but don't find many non-political diaries I can get into. I would like to comment on your's as follows:

    Diverted dreams. HPS (Heavenly Postal Service) can be as fucked up as the USPS? There's a short-story.

    We'll ALLways (no sic) have Paris. These are conscious dreams. Dreams of what we desire and can achieve. Even twice.

    Chain dreams: of Death (mayhem), Flying, Her, and a...Prophecy?

    Death---My first was as a third grader. I was in a swimming pool. Somebody was on top of me and I was about to run out of air. I was forced to wake up gasping.
    By the by, the very next night, I dreamed my brother was a werewolf and was trying to steal my little "girlfriend." While still sleeping, I rolled over and slugged him right in the snout. I'm LOL as I write this; can't stand the SOB.
    Anywho, the second death dream had me at, what I still believe was, the Alamo. A Mexican soldier, dressed for that period, chased me down and bayoneted me in the kidney. Que susto!
    About a week ago, I dreamed I was getting ready to die. Dreams being what they are, I was to be the one to tell them to administer the cocktail, although this was not a death penalty situation, nor a health issue. I think it was simply time to go.
    I was having second thoughts, but not from fear (I'm a devout Reincarnationist). I just wanted to stick around for awhile and party. Then again, I had promised.
    I woke up, and they can kiss my ass.
    All's well that ends well.

    Flying---Must've started in the 70's, I think. It was a little brown bottle that I drank from and rose straight up.
    Several more like that, then, I'm flying an airplane: take-offs and landings.
    Finally came helicopters. That was the toughest, but I got so good that I could miss telephone wires et al.
    These must have gone on for a decade or so. Wish they would return.

    Her---After the passing of my beloved in '91', she came to me some time later.
    "I'm okay," she said. Just that simple; just that shocking.
    Why, "shocking?" Because it marked the one and only time in my life that someone actually spoke to me. Directly. Verbally. In my dreams, no one ever actually talks to me. I see their lips moving, but don't actually hear them. It's all done psychically.
    I went on having the usual dreams about her, thereafter. I wish I could remember how many times she'd walk in, and flabbergasted, I'd tell her that we all thought she was dead, then, begin to explain and wake up.
    Oh, the karma.

    Prophecy---This last may count as chain-dream, although it all happened during the same nap.
    It was 1965. I laid me down to rest and dreamt fitfully (don't even remember about what). I started coming out of it when a voice asked. "What's the password?"
    "When the northern lights go out," I replied.
    I kept falling back to sleep and each time I tried to wake up, the same thing would happen; may have been 4 or 5 times.
    When I did wake up, I was fascinated. I called a friend and ask if he had ever heard the phrase before; or possibly a protest-group name, which were all the rage.
    He hadn't, and after a time I forgot all about it.
    On November 9, 1965, Ontario, Canada and 7 northeastern US states lost all power.
    I found it interesting if nothing else.

    As an amateur writer, I'm forever daydreaming about meeting "known" people such as you mentioned. It's good practice, but, like you, I have no overwhelming desire for it to happen.

    As an aside, you're, officially, the first person outside of myself that I've ever run across that calls God an, "it."

    We do control our dreams as a defense mechanism. I've learned that, and even mastered it to a point.

    You said: "But as I'm sure you would attest from experience, all the great dreams you have end much too soon."
    Ain't it the cryin' truth?
    Yeah. Don't even blink in a dream. That's more than enough to miss out on getting laid.

    "What the hell was all THAT about?!" These are the words that best cover dreams, I think.
    I've often thought about having those words placed on my tombstone, as well.

    One last little piece of advice, for whatever it's worth: Stop reading brochures.

    Have a good day!

    Fuck Big Brother...from now on, WE'RE watching.

    by franklyn on Sun Jul 15, 2012 at 02:20:40 PM PDT

  •  Addendum: (0+ / 0-)

    If I had to choose, I'd say: bread and butter.
    A little bit this; a little bit that.

    Fuck Big Brother...from now on, WE'RE watching.

    by franklyn on Sun Jul 15, 2012 at 03:03:32 PM PDT

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