A Tormented Soul

Hello sleepers and non-sleepers,

This message is brought to you by tick-tock. I awoke during the night with something crawling on me. It was not my wife. It was not my sister. The reason for this comment is that once, when I was about 7 years old and living in the old two story house at 948 Capitol Avenue, this happened. I was asleep in the family bedroom - what? you didn't have a family bedroom? We did. My mother, father, older sister and me, slept in one bedroom. There were burglar bars on the windows, chains on the door and my daddy put up brackets on each side of the door, so he could put a two by four across it. If anyone could get through that, he'd be facing my dad's gun. I guess that's why I had no little brother or sister! One night, as I lay there asleep, I sensed someone walking between my bed and the wall. I believed this to be a burglar. I layed there silently, even when he tried to crawl over my bed. I assumed (let the reader understand that, at that age, I didn't know the word assumed, but assume that I knew how to assume) that the burglar would not harm me if he thought I was asleep. After a moment or two, by powers of deductive reasoning, not knowing the word deductive either, I deducted that the intruder was my sister, sleepwalking. Nevertheless, I always thought of myself as brave and clever and wise. Unless you're thinking about fighting, or schoolwork or other actual challenges. So I wondered, if my intruder tonite was not my wife, not my sister, but actually something with tiny legs that tickled as it crawled on my skin, what was it? No matter, I swiped at the monster! It was not fazed. I grabbed it between my thumb and finger and carried it to the bathroom, mashing all the way. I had a sixth sense that this thing might be a tick! It looked like a tick. It wouldn't mash, like a tick won't mash! So being resourceful, I grabbed a match and burned the tick. That's the way to kill ticks and vampires, since I didn't have a tiny stake handy. This tick had tocked his last. So, next I wonder, where there are ticks, there might be what else? Other ticks. There might be other bigger, badder ticks. or worse, there might be tiny microscopic baby ticks, that I won't find for a month or two. So now I imagine there are ticks all over me. It's like when you're scared and your senses are heightened. All of your hairs, even your peach fuzz is standing on end. Every time one of those thousands of tiny hairs twitches, it might be a tick.
Once, when my dad was about my age, he thought he had bugs all over him. He saw on tv about the dust mites. They're so tiny, you can't see them, but they're there. They are eating your furniture, they're pooping in your bed, they're taking over your VERY HOME! He took me in the other room one evening. What, you didn't have an other room? We did! Every room we weren't in was an other room. He took me in there with a flashlight and turned the light out. You see, dust mites can only be discovered by scientific testing. He pulled up his shirt and shined the light and began scratching his belly. Sure enough, you could see tiny little things being stirred up! It's time to call the FBI, or Orkin or the men with the white coats! I said, Lookit,(of course at that time, I didn't know the word lookit) I can do that too. I pulled up my own shirt and scratched my belly and little things began flying around! I said, dad, that is dead skin! I sure was glad that worked. Otherwise I would have looked stupid! Of course what I didn't tell him, is that the dead skin was probably what the dust mites had been living off of.
All in all, I am grateful for the tick. He gave me something to write about. Since we only have basic cable , I sometimes go to bed earlier that usual, which usually does not work out well. Last night was such a night. I don't like shows about gory, gruesome, hateful things. I like comedy, romance, mild adventure. So, I'm reduced to watching shows on PBS, about old shows. Last night it was about Carol Burnette.
There are two kinds of people:
Those who like Elvis or those who like the Beatles.
Those who like Lucy or those who like Carol.
Those who sleep or those who don't.
Those who say shopping cart or those who say buggie.
Actually there must be many kinds of people.
Anyhow, Phylis Diller, if you don't know Phylis Diller, there is another whole world back there waiting for you. Anyway, Phylis Diller, by the way, it's a perfect name for her. she said, comedy is born out of tragedy or pain. I have always heard that comedy is always at someone's expense, and I believe that is true. It's sad to think that the people who make us laugh the most and feel good the most, must have been through such horrible pain. I think the trick is to somehow exaggerate the pain. But, the real trick is to spell exaggerate without wikopedia. But apparently I did, and twice in a row. So once again I have overcome my poor education. I must reach back into the horrible place in my life and dredge up happiness for others, even though I be tormented and vexed. Bytheway, do you know the difference. Being vexed is having a tick bite in the nite. Being tormented is the horrible reciprocating dreams that will not stop until you become insane!! Like I had last night! It's like when Lucy pulls away the football and Charlie Brown falls on his backfield. AAUUGGHH!!! These dreams are so detailed and filled with adventure and great fear. The difference in me and Spielberg is that he can put his dreams on film. And he is rich and famous. And he has a Jewish sounding name. Other than that, my dreams are even better than his. I dreamed I was in this huge, I mean HUGE arena. The seating was like a mountainside and the seats were abstractly molded into stone, crudely shaped into erratic forms where you could perch, but none too comfortably. They were steeply arranged. I have recurring dreamscapes where I climb to a point that I can not return from. Has that ever happened to you? You get to a place and can not negotiate a safe way to get back from it. Kind of like jumping into a hole - easy enough - but then you can't jump back out. Only, in my case, every direction you move brings great risk of falling. I don't really have a fear of heights. I have a very realistic fear of falling from heights. In this particular dream, I keep jockeying - I'm sorry but I don't understand that word. I have to look this up. I wanted a really good definition, so I went to Merriam-Webster. One of my original goals was to educate and inform my readers. Then I noticed it is Merriam hyphen Webster. I always thought Merriam was one of the Websters. Merriam was Charles and George Merriam, who bought rights to the Websters stuff, so Merriam - Webster. The first definition was to do with underwear. Now I should think a jockey would wear briefs for reasons I won't explain here - or anywhere else! The word makes perfect sense though, because a jockey must pick, choose and aim for his position among the other horses, if he is to finagle his way to the front. I'm not speaking with any reference to shorts. I jockeyed for the best position until I had reached a perch that I was not able to extricate myself from. This tormented me greatly. I don't know how I managed to vacate that position, but I then chose a position closer to the coming attraction. Now this mountainside arena was at the edge of a great sea and the attraction was a colossal stone ship. An enormous (I don't like the word ginormous. It just sounds foopid to me!) ship carved from stone appeared to be suspended under water, before our eyes. Villainous villains were aboard, making vile threats to the horrified audience. They grabbed one young woman, who screamed, panic-strickened for her life. I tried to believe she was a plant, but in my heart, did not. This was tormenting!
On the other hand, sometimes I dream things that make me laugh out loud. My wife usually does not think these are funny. And I usually forget them. I have dreamed whole songs, which I have no conscious knowledge of. Brian Wilson, and I'm sure other songwriter/composers do this. When he awakes from a dream, he writes it down, sometimes resulting in a hit song. I am convinced that if I can somehow harness my dreams, I can live much larger than ever before. If your dreams are more amazing than your life, why not live your dreams and just dream your life. Huh??

Oh well, I have probably kept you from many important things, like relining the waste basket or deflating the couch cushions. I hope my torment has brought you some happiness

Good night, may the angels watch over you while you are sleeping.