I wish it was easier to describe a dream
A poor description of a great dream makes me ponder life and life choices.

I wish it was easier to describe a dream

I really enjoy a good dream. It’s sad that it takes so much distracting brain power to transfer the imagery of a dream to another person or a blog. It never does it justice because I have to think about writing and grammar and punctuation and while I’m doing this, the dream content fades away because we don’t dream in words. 

That paragraph has erased much of the imagery that I was set to describe already. I had a full dream in my mind as I woke at 6:30 a.m. and I stayed in that limbo between sleep and awake enjoying it for a while and enjoying the hope that I could transfer that joy to the written word. Instead, I end up writing about not being able to do so. 

My dream started in the dream universe with one of the main characters, a teacher that I had a good relationship with. She had asked me to do something out of character for both of us. I was to hide a listening device in one of the retail stores of the mall the occasionally pops up in the dream universe. Due to comical obstacles, I missed the window of opportunity to do so. I was then stuck with the responsibility of holding this illegal and not quite natural looking clipboard that had extra depth to contain the special recording device. It was a suspicious thing to be carrying around and I shared the secret with a few people I should not have. 

For whatever reason this contraband device I was stuck with turned into a machine that could print money and I lost control of it too non-Trustworthy friends who started to use it for personal gain. 

Once again through complications people found out and the next scene was me talking to a room full of lawyers on how to avoid going to prison and it didn’t look good for me. Some of the room was optimistic in some of the room was pessimistic and I presented some excellent courtroom drama kind of explanations again with mixed reactions. 

The tipping point was when my stash of methamphetamines was discovered and my usage became the focus of the trial unexpectedly. The mood shifted to negativity and I found myself trying to come up with a good legal defense that a jury would buy as to why that should not be the case. Literally. My usage of meth should not be the prime focus of a case about counterfeit money and trust. 

I remember one of my defenses was start with the statement that everything you know about meth is false. Boldly I asked five random people in the courtroom what they knew about meth. Then I asked a different five people what they knew about Adderall and all of the answers contained exaggerated falsehoods based on the opinions that I had in my mind anyway. 

My arguments impressed to the lawyers but I was told I wouldn’t win because we didn’t have the years required to change the minds of people about negative beliefs. People want to believe what they already believe. It’s a fact to change realistically takes generations not hours 

So I accepted that I would probably be going to jail and tried to justify in my mind it wasn’t such a bad thing. Then the dogs started barking and I woke up slowly. This morning will be the last day of rationed meth to help wake me up in the morning. It’s 7:00 a.m. now and I haven’t done any yet. I woke up and started writing this. 

The text does not convey the emotions and depth of this dream. I stayed calm throughout it. My calmness caused partially by the deeper sleep and relaxed mind that isn’t on meth this morning. That will give way to a faster heartbeat and tempo of life soon. I’ll start with some chocolate now and work my way up to waking up. 

I had pride in that dream. Not shame. I was sad my tool was used to bring me down in court. It brings me up in life. 

End of part 1. I don’t know exactly if people don’t get it, or if I’m not getting it. Bad or good? Need or addiction. I wish the answer was easier than just dreaming about it. 



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