I’m so anxious that it’s physically painful. This is way harder than it should be. Every single part of my body and my soul hurts right now. I want to be selfish. I can’t be.
I have this strange recurring dream. I am in a large, institutional-type building. It is something like a hospital, or a school, sometimes a hotel, or even a restaurant. There are lots of odd, recurring things about my travels through these buildings, but two things seem consistent.
First of all, there are always large groups of people in these places; I’m always trying to avoid the crowds. I travel by back stairways and freight elevators. I always seem to be on one side of a door while there is a huge group of faceless people on the other side.
The second thing; I’m always looking for a bathroom. These buildings I’m in are FILLED with bathrooms, huge 50 stall bathrooms, but I’m always looking for one that is totally unoccupied. When I find an unoccupied one, I decide that it is too dirty.
Sometimes I’ll open a door to a place I know is a bathroom, it will have turned into a lecture hall, or a restaurant dining room. I’m then lost and have to walk around until things once again look familiar, then it’s back to the stairways and hallways I know so well, back looking for an out of the way bathroom.
I’ve had these dreams so often that I know the places in which they occur, even if I’m awake. There is that weird house that was split into a two family, oddly, and is falling down in places. There is the big hospital that seems to have nothing but stairwells, nurses stations, locker rooms and bathrooms. There is the big school that has exact replicas of a once-local Borders bookstore and a long ago torn down restaurant inside it, etc. About 10% of the layout of these buildings change in every dream; just enough to make navigation frustrating.
For a long time I assumed that I was having these dreams because I simply needed to go to the bathroom. My subconscious was processing the information my body was giving it which was, find a bathroom. I now know that my bladder has nothing to do with it. These dreams are about lack of privacy.
Everything I do, everything I say, everything I think, is put up for public consumption on Facebook, twitter, Instagram, Foursquare, latitude, etc. Worse than that, everything I post, everything I do, everyplace I go, is monitored, surveilled, analyzed, and over analyzed. If I don’t share enough, the social media posts of my friends, acquaintances, and even people with whom I have no contact are monitored and analyzed. I am under constant surveillance. I’m not paranoid, my every move is watched by friend and enemy alike.
The dreams are about the lack of privacy. The settings are familiar, but change just enough to be unsettling. I’m searching for a place with a little privacy, but the truth is, at least right now, it doesn’t exist.
Given my fragile state of my mental health, and my PTSD history, this may be enough to push me over the edge. I need to throw out my computers and dust off the typewriter in the office.
The irony of posting this story in this blog is not lost on me.
As the President continues to illegally bypass Congress, as the impeachable offenses pile up, it’s tempting to ask what can be done to stop it. How can the American people force the President to follow the law? The sad truth is that we cannot. Congress’ ultimate check on the abuse of power by the President, is impeachment. Unfortunately, Barack Obama could shoot a political foe, in the Rose Garden, during a press conference, and the Senate Democrats would blame the National Rifle Association. The Senate will never hold Obama accountable in an impeachment trial, and the President knows it.
We are left to ponder what damage has been done. If you support the “right” or ability of this President to make changes to laws without going through Congress, and his refusal to enforce other laws, because you like those changes, you’re missing the bigger, more important picture. You’re enabling the NEXT President to dictate changes on his own, changes you might not like. When you cry “process” your enemies will counter with “precedent.” You’ll turn to the Constitution for help but find that you made it into a torch of support for Obama. You burned it proudly, defiantly, while smiling, with great pleasure. Political myopia at its worst.
Actually, I don’t have a single thing to add to this.
It’s amusing how words often mean the opposite of what they should intuitively mean. It started in trendy-speak when hot came to mean exactly the same as cool, when cool was still a word that was trendy. Wicked means good. Bad means good. Evil means good. Sick means good. Good no longer means good, but has been demoted and now means just about OK, but nothing special – that would be bad or wicked or sick.
The trouble is that it isn’t just children making their own words to rebel against authority. Adults abuse language too, and in far less innocent ways. People’s minds are structured using words, and if you can bend the meaning of a word after those concepts have been assembled, all the concepts built using that word will change too. So, fair sounds a nice sort of word; we all want everything to be fair; so if you…
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The time spent atop the wall of sleep, not quite awake, not quite asleep, is the most dangerous time of all. All the thoughts that your conscious mind has kept at bay all day see their opportunity to break through, to reveal themselves and let you glimpse them as you slowly sink into the subconscious. The thoughts, visions, and memories that are within us, but not revealed to us, lurk and make their presence known, like wolves heard, sensed, but not seen, circling just outside the light that the campfire of our conscious mind throws into the dark night of our existence.
The pain, the guilt over the shadowy events and memories that you, through either action or inaction, created or allowed to come into existence is the last thing you feel before the veil of nightmares separates you from the safety of the rational and the present. Guilt and anger is the last thing you feel before the shadowlands pull you in. It’s no wonder that the pain does not fade. It is nourished, cultivated every night, and reborn with you every morning. The light of the day chases the pain to the back of your mind, where it sits and waits for its opportunities to make itself known. Like a guerrilla warrior, a terrorist, it looks for weak points and places where it can do it’s greatest harm. It is an enemy not quite understood. An enemy not fully known cannot be defeated without destroying the whole world around it.
I have so many questions. Most stem from contradictions in my understanding. I can never ask them. It would cause too much pain and that’s not fair to do. I have to decide what happened, without knowing. I need things to be concrete so I can drown this in the River Styx. Now I want to listen to Styx. Not really.
Eventually, the panic always turns into fear that I’ll eventually let it ruin everything.
I can’t change the past, I can’t accept it and forget it, at least not yet, and I don’t want to run away from it. I don’t know of another option. I just don’t want my pain to bleed over onto others.