Night terrors, sleep paralysis and what it tells us.

Walking alone down a long, dimly lit corridor, old paintings hang on the walls, the floors are scattered with paper and debris. I turn to focus on one wall, instead of finding a painting, I see a television hung sideways instead. The world quickly shifts and I realize it's not the television that's sideways, it's me. My eyes are open and I'm looking across the living room, at the tv which is turned off. I'm on the couch, moaning quietly. In my head, I'm screaming, flailing trying to wake my body, but barely a twitch comes in response to the waking world. I spend a couple more hours in and out of dreams and paralysis, sometimes purposefully forcing my way back into dreamscape out of aggravation with my lifeless body.

This is very common for some, sleep paralysis, sometimes night terrors, the two are intertwined. As horrific as the above scenario may seem, it's common place in my life. I'm an insomniac, quite severe actually, when left to my own tendencies, I can stay awake for three or four days, which has a horrible toll in the body and mind. I take medication, to help me sleep, which works well, though it increases my paralysis, trying to keep me asleep.
The situation in the couch told me a great deal, and finally answered some questions. As scary as it sounded, it was just very uneasy, shaking and vertigo, and frustration with not being able to speak. Every other time I've had paralysis, it was also defined as a night terror. Science defines it as bringing back dream fragments into our world, because we are still asleep, but our eyes are open. The dreamer is paralyzed, something the body does to protect us, otherwise we'd sleep walk or roll out of bed all the time. Then according to science we re-situate these dream fragments to fit what our eyes see, causing it to look like things are standing in our room late at night.
There's the science of it. Here's the reality for anyone I know that's ever had a night terror. You may not even think you're asleep, much less had time to enter REM( the point at which science says we dream, three hours into a sleep cycle) suddenly something is sitting on your chest, or something is in the corner speaking in an unknown tongue, your frozen, can't scream, can't make it go away. There are several points I'll make here, as I've had ample time to study them, but they'll come in no particular order.
I'll start with a question I posed myself: why if these are dream fragments, are they always incredibly evil? Why do they feel external? My mind could not Imagine some o the things I've seen... Literally, I couldn't grasp it, yet according to science my mind created it. Another question begging to be answered: I'm a very active lucid dreamer, if I know this is partial dreamscape, why can't I control it? 90% of the time if I'm having a lucid dream, I can shift the world or control any dream character, so why do these fragments taunt me?
As of last night, I have had paralysis, without the night terror. I won't say it was fun, but it wasn't pure evil either, and there was a degree of control to it, despite my body being shut off. Only upon further, similar experiences can I begin to answer questions about this, I assume it'll become another dream trigger, if my eyes open and I can't wake, I'll close them and become lucid. The opposite usually works for people who don't experience lucid dreams often. If you're having a nightmare, blink quickly, soon your real eyes will open and you'll be awake.
I am going to start studying night terrors, I have read several books that had a few chapters but nothing devoted to the subject. As I believe in a mixture of science, spirituality and psychology, I'd like to find non-scientific material approaching the subject. These "dreams" do not feel like they are part of me, although they are often the post result of a nightmare, that much isn't even the case always. Sometimes I am having a perfectly peaceful, normal dream, then suddenly thrust into this horrific scene in my room. It can hurt, the weight on your chest, aching. One thing that caught my attention, they do not respond like normal dream characters, and will defy commands, that any lucid scene would change, however sometimes they respond to spiritual commands, prayer, Christian techniques, the belief that letting an entity know it has no dominion and cannot hurt you. They sometimes respond to this, possibly get more aggressive or dissipate.
There is a lot more here I could talk about, and I'll probably do a part 2, as I encounter and study more. I'm interested by the less looming paralysis, as it could be a useful tool, rather than a bad experience.
Just know, if you are haunted by these type of dreams or phenomena, you are not alone, I have them often, and I've read many case studies. Right now I'm going to search for more solid written material. Sweet dreams.

In life the pain you'll regret, as much as the love you'll forget. Mark my words, pain you'll hate, and love you'll know. In time they both feed what we learn to grow.
To not know ruin, is to not accept love... Never speak of the above. I share with you, what you'll not accept, but in dark times learn to regret. The knowledge of, can bear fruit. More oft' than not, a sad pursuit.
The heart breaks, to feel it amend. The discontent, above we send.
On wings of angel we doth sow, our prayers to God for him to know.
May they be answered, may they be not. A thing of beauty; love, even wrong for naught.

90% of this feels quoted, but if it is, I'm unaware of the source. Surely inspired by others, but thoughts that ring true in my personal life.
Why is the hardest thing to recall in life the warmth of a touch? Is it because of how fleeting it seems, or because we take it for granted?
Life happens while we wait for it to start.
The greatest memories we possess are never ones we spent alone. Yet how often do we bother recalling them until the company is gone?
I am wasting my days, precious time, swaddled in regret, or hopeful for something I screw up. Right now is happening and what am I doing about it? I'm typing things that others may heed a glint of wisdom from, yet I have better ways to be living my life, if this were the last thing I ever bothered writing down, I'd have lived a worthwhile existence.

I almost forgot.

It's easy to lose track of ideas, especially ones that can change you're life. I'm going back to the love no matter what happens state of mind. I keep feeling like I'm about to get hurt.
If I'm truly offering my love no matter what, then I don't really have a reason to feel hurt by anything.
Can you tell it's feb? I keep talking about emotions and touchy feely stuff... Back to work boy.

I usually pre-type this stuff.

To avoid spelling errors, to stay on point, and well to avoid regret. I usually re-read it before I post unless it's silly. This isn't silly, and it's about regret, so I'm typing it straight to the blog, so I don't change my mind, or water anything down.

I liked myself better when you were around. That's sounds crazy and backwards, but it's true, and the only part of this whole thing I decided in advance. The more it bounced through my head all morning the more true it became.
Fucked up fate kept me from changing both our lives forever, and what will be a tiny memory for you someday of "that guy", will for me be the one thing I get to grasp onto, for a life I almost got to live.
Yeah, this already sounds crazy and too extreme, just damnit... That was so fucked up, and in good conscience no one can be upset about it. Because it all leads to something wonderful soon. Just not for me. I'm the memory, not the man.
I think I'll cut this short and maybe retain whatever bit of dignity I have in this situation. (I started to re-read it to add on, but a promise is a promise) *send button*

We are the orphans of the American dream, so shine your light on me.- rise against.

There is another face I dare not show
Another side of me you shall not know
This dark half held deep inside
For once it opens I'll be split wide

There's simply a side of me that you cannot heal
No passage of time can unwind what I feel
Unending waves of turmoil abound
my dark passenger makes no sound
It lies inside me scratching it way out
With deafening scream, a silent shout

Humanity

It sounds shallow but honestly, one reason I've never committed myself to a psych ward, is because I don't want my piercings closing.
I eat like you, and I shit like you. But our commonality ends soon after that. I simply am not like other humans. I talk differently, act differently, and obvious look quite different. I began separating my physical appearance on purpose, then it took a life of it's own.
It must be an illness, right? I do have mental disorders, that mostly stem from my brains inability to slow down.
I can't sleep, and have severe anxiety, because my mind will not shut off. Which causes physical problems as well. Is intellect an illness? The world has grown dumb around me, and I have to question if it's just me that's wrong.
It's been 24 hrs since I wrote that first part. Unsure of whether to share it. I share everything. That's why I'm writing this now, I hurt, and if you think you know why, you don't. The person that hurt me, doesn't know, and it's not their fault. They will also never read this, or get a chance to know me this well. I will close myself off to them, rather than allow further insult. It's a shame because they could have been special. Instead, of course they are like everyone else. I forgive them, I release my hurt on this page, and I move on. I've barely opened my heart up and felt hurt twice in two weeks. Maybe it's a mistake.
I know there are a few possible eyes skimming this right now, and one pair that's afraid it's about them, it's not. I love you, and even with the hurt, through the hurt... I'll not give up on you.
Back to the rather ambiguous topic. People are shit, the world has grown mean, I feel misanthropic, except I open myself to anyone that cares. So in some aspect I'm the exact opposite. I have faith in mankind, I just keep being let down.
All of this human emotion, sadness, it's hurting my work, although I know in a few days it'll stoke the flames, right now it hurts. I don't want to close myself off again, but I don't wan to feel like this all the time either. A few deep breaths and compose myself. I don't feel lime I need to dwell anymore so I'm closing this up here.

Do you ever stop pooping, merely because you grow tired of the act?
Maybe it's just me.
Damn.

This sucks, because I can't sleep.

But I'm posting it anyways.

Strip everything away except the fear.
Dissolve the pain that comes with time.
I held you once, now not so near.
Erase this verse, forget this rhyme.
I'd give it all away for one so dear.
Commit myself unto this earth my final crime.

Excluded from your life, yet so close.
To let you live in peace, a path I chose.
Gave up everything, filled with regret.
I want it back now, unhedge my bet.

I could have begged, I could have cried.
It makes no difference in my mind.
Stayed strong, pretended to be fine.
Really weak, unfolded with time.

Those final memories, choked back with tears.
I life unknown for many years.
A path un-chose now has been closed off
The picture painted is never gone

In reply part blah blah blah

Ok these are coming in as typed now. I'd rather save some of this than have it trampled by time.

I'd rather focus on the abandon than the greed.

-Greed makes us weak. The illusion of power, leads to our demise. You can't fall if you're already on the floor. True evolution, supersedes greed, in search if wisdom instead. Write that on a fucking fortune cookie. Lucky numbers: 22 79 333 7734

And two

My old friend
Look down the barrel
Tell me what you see
The last thing you focus on.
Before you leave.

Pull the trigger, save us time.
A life lived in hatred is better gone
An insect, on it's knees.
Pray forgiveness
Then just bleed

Cock the hammer
Let it be
Empty the chamber
Set us free

No more drama no more need
The stain erased with one deed
Disappear now from this coil
Embrace your hate in the soil
Embrace the soil

Same old trend
I have no quarrel
Just let it be
The reason that I wrote this song

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust
Bite the barrel, taste the rust.

This has been written three ways, two of which I care to share.

Look down the barrel my old friend
Focus on this last thing before the end
I've wasted so much energy on your hate
Take a breath smell the metal I can wait

Put your hands up to your face
Pray one last time for saving grace
You're negativity hurt them all
Now on your knees they see you crawl

Open wide now please close your eyes
Recant the deeds that led to your demise
Swallow hard now my old friend
Off to hell now you'll descend
The barrel empties in your head
From this simple bit of lead

I've dug this grave with my own hands
Burrow deep now into the sands
Each pile of dirt is better than
What lies before me once a man

Mistake this not for my revenge
Not a selfish act for my own end
On this day so many lives are freed
All their pain is gone while you just bleed

Such a sad and senseless deed
Upon their fears you would feed
But now we've made it to the end
Close your eyes now my old friend

This won't play out in this life
The memory however long since died

More stuff, now with cheese.

Secret contact from old souls
Uncharted life's taking tole

Regret buried in cryptic passage
Barely recognized in its message

Longing to unwind days since past
Unable to accept fates current path

Laid out a final chapter to remember
The reality of mistakes to render.

In reply, part 2

Here it comes again, can you feel it? the Silence that envelopes everything. Preparing for the waves of crashing hush. The good periods are too quickly swallowed, bittersweet and then they're gone.
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Through half closed eyes I yearn for king nemo, to navigate my pillow to his land of slumber. Steal this day from me, and trade it instead for tomorrows sanity.

-I want to sleep... But I'm staring at the tickling cock on the wall, counting the hours until it's time to record, and then spend time with someone for their birthday. Time waits for no man, no rest for the wicked, third clever quote for the sake of rule of three's.

-it's not digital, the old kind. With the big thing, and the little thing, that points at the things. You know.

-Just hit the point where everything balances. Deprivation is fun for the next 20 minutes. Somehow I'm having three conversations at once... Two of which are related to hot beef.
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In reply.

IThese are merely rapid fire answers to some of the questions asked recently:

It was merely the idea of romance this time, not even the actual state, that left everything broken. The mere idea that it could exist, changed me inside, I'll not turn back to save the hurt. Instead move forward with a wary vigilance. I didn't even know it was seeking me, until it was found, but gone too soon. Dissociative could describe my last year and a half. The heart stored high on a shelf out of reach, collecting dust. Someone had to climb up there, take a peek, and accidentally opened the crack, that had long since sealed. It now seeps precious fluid, even as the wandering eyes have long since passed. Now it wants again. How do we feed something, that we want to deny?
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That's not immunity, you are the sickness. Rot-guts and fresh wounds, we are the patient 0's.
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Holy crap that really is a Hebrew duck! Is that even kosher?
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If knowledge is power, and time is money; I want to be the most powerful man in the world, unfortunately I don't have the time.
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As I'm sipping my morning coffee and skimming today's paper to see how the markets doing, I ask my wife if she can walk the dog, as I'm afraid I may be late for the office if Dexter doesn't do his duty quickly enough.
That guy. Where is he? I was promised by the adults he'd appear suddenly one day, once the phase was over.
As they all shed their nine inch skins and polo's grew in, I sat back in wait. "A late bloomer", I surmised in my best guess.
Years went on and mediocrity sky-rocketed, as promised, everything around me, dulled to a worn gray color.
A condenser microphone stares at me defiantly from across the room, knowing damn well it may win the battle today. Healing tattoos, scarred cheeks, and a sore conch, not exactly what was expected.
I remember wanting it, even being it, then I was just stuck with it. If I look from just the right angle in the mirror I can still see, no wait... Ok there, there I am. Lost, swollen, tired, adjectives. As close friends retire their moniker, I'm just learning the joys of killing Jenkins, a name passed down from liars and pedophiles. There's no pride in that bloodline, I can't blame my children for changing theirs either. Oh, fatherhood? Yeah, it changed everything. I grew up so fast, and learned a love I never knew possible. I was a great father. Was, what a funny word, it changes the entire tense of a sentence almost without notice. I miss them, my world, and the greatest pain I endure. A life of some sort must carry on, despite how hollow it may be.
The man, the monster, the myth, the legend. A myth is a fancy term for a widely accepted lie,(praise who?). A legend is someone that hides behind an idea so fervently that they become known as shaping that idea, when usually in reality, it just gave them somewhere to hide. So we're left with the man and the monster. The man decided to become the monster, and it worked. It's easier to progress in this direction, and quite impossible to turn back.
There was a whole idea forming here, a final justification of the life lived in opposition to the one left behind, or stolen as the case may be, a point of respect gained from integrity, despite how one may look... Fuck it, I'm tired of typing. Happy Wednesday everyone.

I will say this... Even as it feels like everyone wants a piece of me right now, I tread lightly. 5 offers as a promoter, PR groups offering services, press kits being made when I say the word, and four states offering tours. Yet, I'm well aware that I should choose wisely, one false step, can collapse a good thing, I'd rather ignore some of it, than have it tarnish a reputation. Money is not the great answer we all want it to be.
That and, my heart just feels weighted. I opened it, just long enough to let it crack. Now all the blood is seeping to the floor, and so much emotion flows with it, quietly, where no one even sees. It might make great artistic material, but fuck, it hurts.

Maybe I should write about something good.

Just for a change of pace, let's try this. There are unbelievable forces pulling me to do great things right now, try as I might, I can't deny their voices. Huge things are unfolding before my eyes, the fruits of my labors are swelling on the vines, an ripe for picking. I'll not waste this moment like so many others, I'll be consumed by it, before I watch it vanish quietly into the night.
Without ruining the ambiguity that is usually this blogs form, I will say I've been approached by people interested in taking my career to new heights. This on the heels of almost giving up.
No one can deny that the newest sing being written tugs at their soul for a moment, hell I tried to deny it, it wrote itself three different ways, with little effort on my part. That's something destined, not to be denied, the whole of it's parts, the entire album is just surrounding it, fermenting it's substance.
Don't let it slip away, ride this one, and see where it leads.

Because it's the right thing to do.

I'm going to fuck up, let something slip away, that could be great for my life. If you think you know what this thing is, let me assure you, you don't. None the less, as great as it'd be for me right now, it wouldn't be so much so for other parties involved.
I'd rather see them happy, than chase some idea of what could fill the void in my life.

It all slips away eventually, it starts with a busy day... Before you know it, it's been weeks. The years erode memories, allowing us to forget, what we once held dear. That's one thing I'd change if I could, but even I succumb to times slow withdrawal. Losing so much that's precious to me by means of circumstance, things that don't even matter in the end, but seem so important in the moment, we willingly sacrifice the only thing that should matter.

xXRx- New Album preview

A critical mind feels the need to define everything, to categorize. Just breath, something's can't be understood until their final chapter, and trying to skip ahead could well cause their undoing.
There ate wonderful things in my world right now, great projects, passions, and amazing people. I need not define all of those, how they will or will not end, but enjoy them for what they are today.
I've never been one to dwell too much on the past, but the future and what it holds has always needed to be known. Yet, I'm here now, yet to ever control any situation through scrutinization. So I breath.
I have plans for tomorrow, and I'm sure they will be most enjoyable, but I'll wait until then to see.

Just testing

Maybe that's harsh

Sometimes (on here) I blurt out things before I mull them over, and in some ways that's the point of it. My therapist is a fucking blog page.
Either way, there's so much positivity in my life, I don't want it all to sound bad.

I almost had that thing. The thing that's missing in my life. Back to work, shovel it down, bury it inside, and remember how empty life is.

Your cunt
Your Christ
Your death
Your life

You can sit
You can spin
You can do it all again

Live your life to abstain just to find it's fucking waste
Open eyes, wake up, take a sip, have a taste.

here but once
Leave a mark
Take a shot
In the dark

Open wide
Supersize
Directors cut
Heed the wise

Suit and tie
Nine to five
Live the lie
Never thrive

Suck it up
Hold it in
Have a seat
Then do it all again

My old friend
Look down the barrel
Tell me what you see
The last thing you focus on.
Before you leave.

Pull the trigger, save us time.
A life lived in hatred is better gone
An insect, on it's knees.
Pray forgiveness
Then just bleed

Cock the hammer
Let it be
Empty the chamber
Set us free

No more drama no more need
The stain erased with one deed
Disappear now from this coil
Embrace your hate in the soil
Embrace the soil

Crawl inside
Warm womb
Embryotic
And so safe

Mask the pain
One more time
Tap the vein
Victimless crime

Who's to say
You'll make it out?
Who's to say
Without a doubt

Still birth
Wet still
you made it out
But not alive

Mask the pain
This last time
Life in vain
Victims crime