Are you sick of "BORING SCARY SICK" Dreams at night

{Load of really wacked out manic stuff clipped to save bandwidth at 60 bauds while using Western Electric KSR-33 teletype terminal}

Well, Dear Morpheus -- may I call you "Morph" for short, perhaps?

The "sick scary boring" dream which I have almost every night would most likely make even you want to run outside real quickly and fall to your knees, begging whatever bundle of sticks and mud that you worship that your eyes be taken, your voice be stilled, your ears be silenced, and your very means of thinking cogent thoughts be forever deleted from your corpus.

You see, Morph, old buddy, my dreams are the dreams of a Madman. Yes, in the clbuttic sense, "Madman" --- my goodness, for example, do you remember the dear Doctor in Silence of the Lambs -- possible not since you are in the land that Vladimir built ... but the dear doctor was one horrific meatbag, yes he was. I am a PTSD survivor ... so you think his dreams are wild .. hah! His dreams Genuflect to my mere daydreams much less those Alpha Wave dramas each night at around 3 am.

You see, Morph old pal, my dreams are dreams of my powers when I become the absolute God Almighty of the Universe: Sort of like the paradigm archetypal Zeus, only with a real bad case of itchy piles and off his lithium, haldol, quetiepam, and methadone, all at the same time. Oh, and like really peeed off too -- at the entire known Universe.

Can you imagine?

Well, one way to partially -- perhaps a single Iota -- understand would be to watch the movie "Forbidden Planet". Your soto-voice name-sake, Doctor "Morbius" played chillingly by the great Walter Pidgeon, spoke at the end of the movie about "Monsters from the Id ... "

Oh yes, the Id ... poor defrocked Siggy Freud .. all the new age PhD's will tell you his methodology and his imagery was really not "scientific" at all ... just his own mixed up aberrations and love for his daughter ... ah, love in that Old Freudian sense don't ya know.

The Id, that nice little place inside all of our minds where we cook up the most horrific, beautiful, pathetic, narcissistic, maniac, depressed, hateful and loving scenarios.

That's right, old Morph, close your eyes now and lean back in that chair. Start the brain sneaking thoughts .... walk through the forest of depravity down to the corner theater .. Le Cinema d'Id .... We use French to name it since the French are so ... ummm how should I say this .. so loveual .... and the brain -- well of course the Id of Everyman is a very loveual place.

Disgustingly so, as a matter of fact. Acts of such depravity that no Russian could ever possibly imagine it in his wildest vodka drunken dreams.

But, I digress ....

Evil lives within all of us .. inside of our festering, pus filled, noxious, noisome, hellpit of an Id. Our Id ... the Cloaca of the Universe actually.

Remember that ANYTHING is "OK" -- "Oh Kay" -- "Okey Dokey Artichokie" when it happens inside your brain .. in that nasty little movie theater for one ... you are the director, the film editor, the projectionist, the actor, the dialog coach, the gaffer, the stunt man, the off-screen tutor for the troupes of child actors ... oh yes, you know they are in there waiting off-stage ....

Now look, Tsarevich Morph .. how about you go ahead and take a nice hike .. head over to some other nice newsgroup ... matter of fact, I'll bet the alt.war.vietnam newsgroup can give even you some most excellent pointers on horrific dreams ... Sure thing .. nothing like a little touch of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and the folks next door doing a barbecue of pork chops on their deck ... tasty smell hummmmm? Think about cooked Long Pig and Napalm and War and eventually you'll get the -- ahem -- picture ...

Hasta Lumbago old Morph buddy .... I am closing my eyes right now .. I feel a bit sleepy ....

Dave