Out of laziness, I'm posting the most recent dream as I transcribed it around 6:00 a.m. in the morning with my eyes closed.

Dream begins with me in a science fiction television series. I keep telling myself it's Star Trek Picard but I haven't an idea. Explain why. It's an anthology rather than one with a persistent arc. After a scene with a cyborg on a viewscreen I'm air dropped into a sim or holodeck or a real life testing area which is an ancient warehouse from the 1920s. Since it's from the 20thentury, it's really ancient. When I mean the 20th century, I mean smewhere in the early 20th century around the time of the 1920s, Our Gang, etc. There's a jalopy there and the person inside this warehouse is hiding behind a desk. I hide in the jalopy. We open the oors and I draw an energy bow which forms an arrow, much lke the 1980s D&D cartoon while the other person holds up a real gun. We count to three, I let loose the energy arrow and miss. He puts downt he gun. We get in the car, start driving down a beach while he explains the car can fly. As we're building up speed, he remarks the stret isn't long enough. So we keep going down straightaways, running red lights to build up speed. Nothing about the jalopy says it can even get off the ground, no wings, but by daylight we're travelling along at a clip when he kicks in the flying mechanism. I can not explain it. I only see the car. We pull up, bang the roofs of cars ahead of us and start rising into the air. There's a tall building in front of us and someone shouts, "They're going over the Washington Monument! It's tall but nothinglike the aforementioned obelisk in Washington D.C.. Weirder still is how it resembles an old style tenement or bank building from the 1920s. It has sandstone brick with silver trim along the corners and across the roof. We are actually flying now and it's interesting but not exhilerating nor fun.

That part of the dream ends and I'm in a greenhouse on the verge of tears. Leah comes in. I try to explain the previous dream to her and she's being very kind to me. Actually listening to me. Being there rather than waiting to be entertained or to hold court. As I write this it reminds me of the time we're in Wildwood, we go on a tram ride, and it's just us. One of the happier moments, if mundane, in ouro marriage. I break down crying and weep, screaming between each sob. She strokes my shoulder, "I had to do all this myself" she tried to assure me, to remind me she (supposedly) went through the same emotions. It took me time to regain my composure but Leah ddn't rush me. All I could feel was dvastation inside of me. We sat on a couch and I started to wrestle her with the intent of pinning her but I just kept making her do cartwheels and I wasn't able to get both of her shoulders down on a sngle surface.

That's when I woke up and went to have a pee. Now I'm writing this out with my eyes closed for most of the time while typing this at 0600.

I think I understand why I was able to maintain a relatively boring diet that helped me lose weight between 2018 and 2019. Since everything else in my life was out of control since I was watching a car crash in slow motion and the driver side was going to pancake against something immobile and painful. Figured if I kept turning the steering wheel something could change the inevitable, but no.
But I had control over what I put inside of my body. By eating chicken breasts in tortillas, oatmeal in the morning, then kielbasa and pierogies for dinner with very little in the way of variety I had the comfort of familiarity, a feeling of independence, and control over one aspect of my life. My sole cheat was Costco for some pizza and their hot dog special. Why? They're cheap.

I'm torn up after last night's dream. My brain kept telling me to play Nine Inch Nails's Hurt and I fought it, but I eventually broke down and played it more than a few times. Cried several times in the morning listening to the hollow scraping sound at the beginning and the end of the song, along with the words of abject loss inbetween.

Like Radiohead's OK Computer, The Downward Spiral is not a good thing. Like a character in a Lovecraft story reading The Necronomicon or the Pnakotic Manuscripts and becoming crazy from the revelations. In this case those albums reveal horrible, depressive things about me. The albums go straight to my fucking nerve, zaps me with 220 volts and kill me.

Considering the latest dream, I realize I cry and feel deep-down soul pain with Leah. I just get angry and disgusted with myself in regards to Edna. I wonder if I never met her or worked with her if things would have been different.

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