Tossing Salt Presents:
A Day of Dougie
September 28, 2020
One topic today and I apologize in advance for the direction this went. I just wanted to talk about a dream I had two nights ago and this just kind of went all over the place rather quickly. I guess that’s what happens sometimes, especially on a Day of Dougie. Anyways, enjoy it. Let’s do this…
Dreams are amazing things. Sometimes, they can bring clarity to the inner workings of the human mind and allow a person, the dreamer, to see things from a different perspective than they normally would, allowing insight. And other times, they muddle things up and bring more confusion and befuddlement. And sometimes, they’re just damn weird. I had a dream. And no, I’m not talking about Martin Luther King here. His dream has been so twisted and warped by the groups like ANTIFA, BLM, and by such race-baiters like Al Sharpton, Jesse Jackson, and Kamala Harris that he wouldn’t even recognize it today. My dream was slightly closer to home and surreal, at least to my warped and fragile little mind. Do you want to hear about it? Here we go.
This happened the other night while I was staying at a local motel, drinking cold beer, Jack Daniels, and in general, trying to hide from the world and get a few moments of relaxation and peace, even if it had to be artificially induced, into my soul. I’ve been feeling anxiety and tension all through my being far more than usual as of late and the loneliness, the doubt, the worthliness, and the fear has been peaking more than ever. I’ve always had issues with anxiety and depression, but for the past month or so, it’s been one hell of a doozy. Anxiety attacks have been rearing their heads and I just needed to decompress and relax for a few hours, even if I had to get shit-faced drunk and lay in the arms of a complete stranger to do it. So that’s what I did. Even if it just pretends and is totally fake, the feelings of having someone with their arms around you and telling you that you’re this or that, it helps. We all need to be able to feel sometimes that we’re not alone, even when the facts say otherwise. But whatever. I’m getting off track. I was speaking of the dream. Here’s how it went.
I had been drinking and other things and the morning was fast approaching and I decided to try and get a couple of hours of sleep before it would be time to check out and go home. So I set the alarm on my phone and laid on the bed, wrapped in the blanket, and dozed off. And though I only slept for maybe 45 minutes at the most, I had the most vivid dream. I’m not sure if I was dead or had just vanished, but there were people everywhere looking down on me as if they were standing over. It was the faces of friends and family and even a few people I haven’t seen or thought of in years. And there was someone there with a microphone asking questions and seemingly interviewing all of these people, asking for comments about me. And the things they were saying. Some were positive and friendly, but other comments? Nothing really hateful, but more focused on the bad stuff. I was being talked down and buried by those who I have always felt the most attachment to. I was a tool. I was a punk. I was a clown. And I listened as if I was watching a video recording and felt… nothing. And then I woke up.
And then it was shower time, drinking a Dew, and time to check out of the motel and come home. And I just keep seeing those faces and hearing their words in my mind and the doubt, the anxiety, the lack of faith I have in humanity at times, just keep screaming at me that this is what I am and how other people see me. I’m just a means to an end and a friend of convenience. That when it matters, I’m alone and have only myself. And it opened my eyes a bit and now I wonder, is it true? Is this really my life or is this just the alcohol working it’s magic and playing tricks?
And now I realize, it doesn’t matter. Life is what it is and when push comes to shove, I’ve always been alone with only myself to rely on. No one else is responsible for me and my happiness except for me and if I’m feeling sad, depressed, or alone, then I only have myself to blame and can only depend upon myself to find a solution and way out of the darkness and back into the light. That’s life and life is just a pathway of destiny, sometimes good and sometimes bad, but it is what it is. And that’s all it ever will be.
Does this make sense? Not really, but when has life ever made sense? I wake up, put on my fake face, go to work, deal with my responsibilities, and keep on keeping on. It’s life and it’s a show where we all play a role and part. And it goes on with or without us. What we do in the meantime, that’s the question. Do we move in a positive direction, fall into a pit of despair, or just go through the motions and stay in one place. However it goes, only one thing is certain and that’s birth and death. And the rest, we just wing it and do what we do.
And how did I get here? I was talking about having a dream and it evolved (or devolved) into a rant about the uncertainties of life. I hate it when that happens. I think I need to go finish getting ready for work. Time to put on the mask, plaster on the fake smile, and be Mr. Responsible. Ain’t life a cocksucker sometimes?
Questions, comments, or any thoughts, drop me a line in the comment section, at my e-mail of Doug28352@yahoo.com, or on Twitter at @Doug28352. Have a great one and I’ll see you later.