If you ask someone whether or not they remember their dream, they'll probably say "no" or "I don't dream." Too bad, everyone dreams but not everyone remembers them. Because my sleep quality is so poor, I have the uncanny ability to remember my dreams every day. Not surprisingly, my dreams always have the same sort of theme: women, money, & conflict (hey before you judge me on those three, remember that they've been the driving force behind human civilization).

When I dream about women, I get pretty far with them (sexually and intellectually). Right when I get to the point of no return, I take a sharp left and end up empty handed. I think the message behind it is women won't solve my problems.

When I dream about money, I dream about having lots of it. But again, when I get to the point where it's too good to be true, it is. It's almost like my brain refuses to let me be happy, like I always have to be reminded of what my reality really is and not what it could be.

When I dream about conflict, I'm right smack dab in the middle of it. Sometimes I fight with guns, sometimes with fists, but I fight. The depressing part is no matter how many times I shoot someone or how many times I smash my fist against someone's nose, I never win. In fact, I never even hurt them. There's been times where I've shot someone time and time again, only to watch them end up offing me with the greatest of ease.

Whoever says it's impossible to die in your dreams obviously doesn't dream like I dream. Regardless, I think my brain is telling me that I'm powerless. I've never won a fight in a dream. No matter how well I fight or how brutal I am, it never makes a difference. That's the depressing part. What we do in life isn't mirrored in the heavens -- it's forgotten about.

I think that's one of my biggest fears. I want to live forever. I want kids to learn about me in school. I want statues erected in my image, skyscrapers flashing my name, women begging for a mere touch.

It's a dog eat dog world and I'm the smallest dog on the fucking block.

If you've ever watched any nature shows on television, you've seen survival at it's rawest. While the big dogs out-muscle the little ones and hoard the food, sex, and territory, every once in a while a little one rises up and takes everything. Unfortunately, I think doing so requires that one sacrifices a portion of their 'humanity' in the process.

Anyway the reason I mention all this is because last night it changed. Last night I beat the crap out of someone. I don't know who it was, but I remember what happened. He surprised me and took me to the ground, but I fought back. You wouldn't believe how good it felt when I realized this was the first time my fists were actually connecting with his foolish face (picture the dull crunching sounds from Fight Club).

I don't know if it was a one-time thing, but to be honest it kind of scares me. I guess I'll see what happens tonight in my sleep, but I think my id is getting ready to take off... and trust me when I say I'm really fucking eager to take that ride.

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