I am dreaming a dream. A strange dream that is mundane and simple, and the dream is about my daily life and the things that rest in my immediate consciousness even. It is strangely familiar and not like a dream at all. That is what makes it so strange. I can see people's faces in very clear detail, and I am shy in this dream. I am bound by my earthly limitations. And then I hear a shrieking drilling sound, and I think, "What in the world?" And as I think this, I am waking up, and the shrieking drill follows me into the waking world. I am dizzy and disoriented as I wake up. I feel like I am falling and flipping over in my bed. But I am laying on my back, and someone is next door operating a shrieking drill, most likely doing work on their house. The shrieking drill was for a brief moment a clear and definite bridge between my subconscious and conscious. It was between both states, and remained constant as I passed from one to the other. How interesting this was! It wasn't the drill that followed me to my waking state. I was following the drill to my waking state. Wasn't it a little early to be blasting that thing all over the place? Waking me from my strange mundane dreams? But the clock says 10. That is not so early. I am up. I am still tired, and aching, but I am up. This is life, this drifting between dreaming and awake, and the only thing that remains is that drill.
As far as I can tell, competition and merit are two very seperate concepts, or they should be. They are two concepts that this society have gotten all too confused. But I'm sure there is some great mechanism at work that I cannot see, which further accounts for my bitterness in the matter.
You'd think the beach would improve my foul mood. Nah. The beach held shades of grey and brown, and not shades of yellow and blue like it should. The color palette was not the most desirable. There was a general dirty feces theme going on with the place. No, that is too harsh. It was a nice day, but the atmosphere was colored darkly with my projections. The heat only helped to swell the festering depression. Maybe it was the low blood sugar a-talkin. It is amazing what body chemistry can do, or, not so amazing. Alot of our mental states are based on body chemistry I guess. Or not? I'm too tired for this.
But what I want to know is why is our nation on Prozac? Where did this depression come from? This sweeping mental disease? Or was depression always there, and now that Prozac is out, everyone is leaping to get a prescription? Or is it a geniune plague. Maybe it is a plague that illustrates the initial signs of a decaying civilization. Maybe it is coming from within. Maybe it is nothing at all. There's no way to tell without it being speculation...at this point.
I also think that...no...its much too hot in here, and I am much too tired. I think I will be done for now.
