The past few weeks have been I've been fairly busy with social activities that require me to stay up sometimes quite late. In response, my body let a cold virus in that has set my "get up and go" type energy back into the stone ages. I've been poping some pills as a result of this to make myself feel half-normal so I don't dissapoint any of my fanclub. They are a demanding bunch who pay good money to have me show up for their events and hangout sessions. So I've been taking cold medication, espeically before bed and with that coarsing through my body, once I fall under I enter an extremely heavy sleep often sleeping through sounds of construction outside, street noise, phone calls, and loud neighbours. Nothing can disturb me other than myself. When I do wake up some 10-hours later after nodding off, I feel like what an opiate head must feel like after a good barge.
Laying there in my bed, I am transported to central London in the 1888 where the prostitutes were abundent, opium was readily available and Jack the Ripper was having the time of his life. I look to my right and replace my set of drawers containing my socks, underwear and condoms into a small Chinese man patting me down with cold damp rags ensuring that I stay awake in order for me to smoke longer. So long as I'm somewhat lucid and my flame hasn't gone out, he'll keep my pipe lit and I'll keep chasing that dragon around my head. Laying there in my double bed in this den of iniquities that I call my apartment its hard to determine what is real and what is a dream, a lot of the time I can't tell what time it is or really care to know. Usually half my day is gone by and my mind is raging with thoughts of time lost yet my body has an overpowering affect over everything productive and keeps me in bed. 10:50AM and I have a moment of clarity, but ths soon is washed away, taken by a sea of images involving a sexual encounter with a young lady that promises a good ending that is never reached.
I am startled to realize its almost 12 noon, yet in a blink of an eye I'm involved in a frustrating scenerio that has my friends on one side of the road, and me on another, unable to cross the street due to the amount of traffic. Nothing seems to matter in these times except getting across that street or reaching ecstasy in the arms overtop of this girl. Everyone has these dreams where reality can wait a little longer in order for you to obtain a goal in a world built on imagination alone. Nothing is real, but to you and interaction with a fictitious character is more important than calling up an actual friend for lunch. If sex is involved,you will always want more espeically when the only heightened experience you will have over lunch in reality is trying to find out what is in their delicious salad dressing. But eventually, after your dream seqence has been intrupted enough times you wake up and get up, finally succumbing to what is real. Suddenly I am up and standing over my toilet relieving myself after a long sleep. I'm still groggy, but now that I'm finally up I can settle into the day. The Chinese man has left, so has the girl and now I can cross that road I was struggling with in my dream for real to get more milk for my cereal. However, I'll repeat the process tonight and keep popping cold meds until my cold is relatively extinguished.
Laying there in my bed, I am transported to central London in the 1888 where the prostitutes were abundent, opium was readily available and Jack the Ripper was having the time of his life. I look to my right and replace my set of drawers containing my socks, underwear and condoms into a small Chinese man patting me down with cold damp rags ensuring that I stay awake in order for me to smoke longer. So long as I'm somewhat lucid and my flame hasn't gone out, he'll keep my pipe lit and I'll keep chasing that dragon around my head. Laying there in my double bed in this den of iniquities that I call my apartment its hard to determine what is real and what is a dream, a lot of the time I can't tell what time it is or really care to know. Usually half my day is gone by and my mind is raging with thoughts of time lost yet my body has an overpowering affect over everything productive and keeps me in bed. 10:50AM and I have a moment of clarity, but ths soon is washed away, taken by a sea of images involving a sexual encounter with a young lady that promises a good ending that is never reached. 
I am startled to realize its almost 12 noon, yet in a blink of an eye I'm involved in a frustrating scenerio that has my friends on one side of the road, and me on another, unable to cross the street due to the amount of traffic. Nothing seems to matter in these times except getting across that street or reaching ecstasy in the arms overtop of this girl. Everyone has these dreams where reality can wait a little longer in order for you to obtain a goal in a world built on imagination alone. Nothing is real, but to you and interaction with a fictitious character is more important than calling up an actual friend for lunch. If sex is involved,you will always want more espeically when the only heightened experience you will have over lunch in reality is trying to find out what is in their delicious salad dressing. But eventually, after your dream seqence has been intrupted enough times you wake up and get up, finally succumbing to what is real. Suddenly I am up and standing over my toilet relieving myself after a long sleep. I'm still groggy, but now that I'm finally up I can settle into the day. The Chinese man has left, so has the girl and now I can cross that road I was struggling with in my dream for real to get more milk for my cereal. However, I'll repeat the process tonight and keep popping cold meds until my cold is relatively extinguished.
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