While it's a great thing that I happen to dream in technicolor, it's also to my detriment that said dreams are anything but normal. It vexes me to no end that I, the paragon of control (in my opinion), has such an unruly subconscious. Case in point, last night's dream, which has uncomfortably showcased Fugs (with girlfriend) mistreatment of yours truly.
Of course, even in my dreams (yes, plural for this is actually the second time something like this happened), I can be ruthlessly vindictive. The first time, I have mentally crippled Fugs--wheelchair and all. The second time, my alter ego has made crude remarks about Fugs' age, which I'm glad for, since I never got the chance to ridicule him in public (the way I originally intended). Needless to say, the mere fact that I still dream about this man really says something about the abysmal state of my mental health. (1) He's still renting space in my head, and (2) I may have inadvertently crossed the thinnest of lines from hate to love and back again. The only conclusion I can gather from this prattle, is that I need to have my head examined real soon...of that I have no doubts whatsoever.
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