Tuesday, October 26, 2010

nightmare juice

Sometimes nightmares come out of nowhere. They slip into any good dream and you have to sit with that sinking feeling of dismay as everything shifts slightly over from "ordinary" to "slightly off" and then "slightly off putting" and finally, "nazi in a giant rabbit suit chasing you around a burning warehouse". Or something.

THEN there are other times. Moments within the cacophonous flood of images our minds process day in and day out where something just... sticks. And it could be anything. A dead bird, a mascara ad, a scene in a film, a cockroach, a terrifying looking hooker. The point is that it's a lottery, and the lucky image-that finds you at a crucial time in whatever your brain is doing in any state of vulnerability at any point in the day-plants a seed. That seed becomes the crux of the worst kind of nightmare. The kind where you go, "fuck this! Why am I SO terrified? I saw this (insert blank) on the bus this afternoon and now it has me running scared in a dream?!" The type of dream where you feel like a tool because you've broken your own fourth wall and yet you still wake up in an ice cold puddle of fear piss, confused and alone.

While brushing my teeth just now I looked down at the porcelain sink and an image flashed through my mind that literally turned the tap that controls the nightmare juice. In writing this I hope very much to stave off the creepy crawlies that may visit tonight.

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