Dreaming of Dreaming | Page 3

can't wait for my freedom,?then to do it all again.
"He's fallen in the water!"
Ying tong tiddle high poe?and other shades of Goonism?drifting in and out?of the corners of my mind?reminiscing about those
hazy radio days?crazy voices reverberating?around the room?antics of Milligan and co.?amazing, surprising,
entertaining,?delighting,?always echoing
Voices again.?Been there, done that...
I can still vividly remember?the last time that I was "hearing voices"?(to use a worn out metaphor).
It was less that a week ago.?I had been there a thousand times before.
Yes, I am on medication.?Yes, I do take it regularly.
But this was only?a short lived episode.
It was a Saturday, and?I hadn't gotten dressed all day,?but instead I had?been napping off and on all day.
I had also done my weeks washing and?had it drying on a clothes horse?in the lounge room?(as is normal, being winter).
It was early evening and?I wanted to go to sleep.
Slumber was a blissful escape,?or perhaps only sometimes.
Anyway, I couldn't get any sleep,?and my mind was racing.
"Everyone's going to find out?all about those secrets.
Everyone will know the?worst things that I can imagine.
They will know all about me?and everything that I imagined?people saying will be true now."
They keep on going around in my head.
They're crap,?and I know it.?They're just voices,?I tell myself,?but why won't they go away ??A short time passed.?More voices,?different voices,
"You know what to do,?Mother always says so.?What should I do now ??I don't know!?But you know what to do,?don't you ?"
The vicious circle kept going `round.
***
Time to get up from bed and?ring Mum,?after all?she knows what to do.
Scattered and shaking,?I do this.
I go to the phone,?sit down, and?phone ever-reliable Mum.
She is my tower of strength.
It's an STD call?but I don't care.
She tells me to ring the Crisis Team?(aka the Mental Health Triage)?but I can only fumble with?my electronic organizer.
I know exactly how it works,?inside and out,?but I could not operate it to save myself.
I get a pen and Mum tells me?the phone number of the crisis team and?I write it down.
She tells me that?she can be on the next bus?if I need her to be with me.
I tell her "no thanks,?I think I'll be OK".?I hang up the phone and?call the Crisis Team.
I speak to a lady who knows me,?although I cannot recall her.
She talks me through it and?tells me to watch a bit of TV or?listen to some music and?to occupy myself until?later in the night.
My mini-crisis passes?as I follow this advice throughout the night.
Was it because I did all of?the "right things" or?was it simply that my "medication"?was taking effect ?
***
The above episode?was only a small tremor,?but it still scared me a bit.
I guess that I took it better?than I otherwise might have?because I have been there before?and done it all before.
But that doesn't make it?any less scary at the time.?It's only with the benefit of hindsight?that I can see that I could cope with it.
An Abecedarian Story
Aardvarks' abacuses abate academia accordingly as?Beavers breech bridges built by?Cats claws cleverly constructing,?Dogs deeply dig ditches downward?Eels electrify electrons, elevating engineered entrapments Fish flatulate food foully?Gazelles glide gracefully?Hawks hedonistically hold holidays?Ibexes idealistically indulge inexpensive infidelities?Jackanapes jam jazz, jealous Jehovahs judge?Kangaroos' karma kills kindergartens?Labradors lament lost love?Macaws mainly manipulate manure?Nags napalm nasty necrophiles?Ocelots often open operas?Panthers persistently piss?Quails quantify quarrels queerly?Rats relegate responsibilities?Salmon seldom sing songs?Tadpoles tastelessly tell tempting testaments?Unicorns unknowingly, unwittingly upbeat urgent urinal usage Venison vent verbal volcanic volleys?Wallabies want wellingtons with wings?X-Dodos. x-tinct.?Yaks yell yesterday's Yiddish yoo-hoos?Zebras zip zodiac zones.
Hollywood Romantiks
I long to be loved,?just like in the movies.?It's all so easy?for the love-struck stars
They met?They didn't get along?then slowly...?they fell in love
It's so easy?for them,?they just fall in love?easy as pie
They say,?" It's not fair,?It's so easy for them.?Why doesn't it happen to me ?"
It doesn't happen to me either!?Life is not a fairy tale.
And yet love will happen.?Of that I'm sure.
Are we there yet ?
Here we go...?on a fantastic journey?of self discovery.
He told me:?" Just grab a pen?and write whatever you feel.?Let it flow.?It's best?when you don't?premeditate your writing."
I should:?edit my writing,?not my ideas !
I should:?take my own advice.
But, I think,?that's easier said than done.?Don't I always try to think?of what I'm going to say next,?before I commit it to paper ?
But then I think,?" What is good writing anyway ??How will I know when I'm there ?"
"Are we there yet ?"
It didn't really happen
You went down the street?just an ordinary day
you saw a young girl?innocent and sweet?talking to her dad?about everyday stuff
their freezer needed defrosting?happens everyday
did you really tell her?or did you just dream it?how to make a little... tiny... flame thrower ???
of course you didn't !!!?you're not that stupid,?and even if you did?you weren't serious.?she'd know that.
you'd never even tried?to make one yourself?but you'd heard it somewhere...?that you can make one?from an aerosol can and a flame
and she could even reach that freezer?if she just stands on a chair
***
try telling her parents?try telling her?you weren't