I Feel Like I'm Dreaming A short story I feel like I’m dreaming. Dreaming, right now. I’ve been doing it a lot lately. Sleeping a lot. I guess some would say that maybe I should sleep less, and then if they knew that until recently I’ve only slept about two hours of every night and sometimes not even at all, they’d tell me I should sleep more. There are people who’d tell me that it’s great that I’m sleeping now. I disagree. I’m afraid of the drifting consciousness. It’s a hole that becomes deeper every time you fall into it. I’ve been having these dreams and truthfully I don’t know what to make of them. I don’t know if they’re a promotion or just gibberish of the unconscious mind. In my dreams Court always looks at me with his big eyes glowing, accusing. He places the blame on me. I fall into his eyes and somehow I know that he’s right. It’s my fault, entirely. Everything is all my fault. I used to have a cat. That was Court. A motorcycle ran over him. Court thought that he was a dog. Chased cars. Meow. Where’s the chow? Let’s chase the tires. I stared horrified as the motorcycle zipped past on the road in front of my yard, ran in slow motion. Courts green eyes stared into my brown eyes. His black fur matched my grief. I stood paralyzed and afraid. I vomited. Some of it went in his eye. Later I buried him, made a little handcrafted tombstone. He’s in my backyard now rotting away. I hear him. He goes with me everywhere now, talks to me all the time. If there’s a pretty girl at the library where I volunteer he says Mor. Look at her. I say that I see her. And Court says talk to her. I say I can’t talk to her Court. And then Court says something which I take in stride. Mor, you fucking pussy. You dipshit. That’s Court for you. I see Court in these dreams. All the dreams are different and still they are all the same. There’s an event that happens in them that keeps recurring. No matter what I’m doing it happens. The weirdest part about it all is that I know I’m dreaming and I can’t wake myself up. I use to be able to do that. Control my dreams. I was a pretty lucid dreamer. Now I’m just acknowledged that the hole I’m in isn’t real. A blue pill, down the rabbit hole, out the window. Court? Are you there? Sometimes I’m at the movie theater with a girl. This girl is also always in my dreams, and I’m always with her. The feature is about to play on the big screen and the lights dim until they’re totally spark-less. The room turns into a coffin, and then I hear this sound. It’s like the sound a small plane going very fast would make. Mach 2, perhaps Mach 4. It’s high pitched and literally painful. I look down and there is Court staring up at me. Mor, why are you making such a racket? Morgan, you’ve got to keep it quiet or people will get pissed. Fuck you Court I say. There’s an explosion then. The girl that I’m with looks at me. He brunette hair curly and intoxicating. Every time I look at her I feel a stirring and every time I feel guilty. “Oh My GOD! MORGAN we’ve got to get out of her, there’s a fire!” The other patrons look at her, look at the screen as the beginning credits roll and then one by one; they all yell out “Fire” It’s a big explosion. Somebody in the crowd says “FUCK, it’s the North Koreans they’ve gone mad and nuked us!” “I swear I’ll fuck someone up”, there’s murmurings and nonsense , Absurdly I hear that someone is getting robbed. “Give me your money … and I’ll take that watch too” Even more absurdly “It’s the end, JESUS will save us. Praise all that is holy” Other times I’m at a fair or carnival. I’m riding on the tallest rollercoaster with the mysterious girl that I don’t know. The affectionate goodness that I lust for, that surely knows me. And when we get to the drop, the highest point of the ride I hear that wheezing sound. A high pitched scream and court is right there, looking up at me. Even though five seconds ago he was nowhere to be found. Court where are you when I need you, you dumbcatfuckwit. But he doesn’t say anything he just stares at me with his accusing green eyes. I always stare into his black fur. I look up into the sky and see a plane drop something. BOOOOOOM. EXISTENCE INOPERABLE. There is always an explosion. There’s always Jane – I don’t fucking know Doe. Who’s clothes I want to rip off, no matter where we are. If it’s the dream where I’m at a basket ball game, I lust. Golf course. I want, I need. Restaurant, I must have. Why do you torment me mystery woman I always ask her. She doesn’t hear me, I’ve asked it in my mind. I always pay for something in these dreams, I’m always doing something. And of course there is always court. I fear that someday these ideas of my unconscious mind will tear out. I’ll see Jane-Who-ze-fuck-R-U? at a grocery store and she’ll take my arm and kiss me on the cheek. And when we get outside to my car I’ll hear that sound, that inevitable wheezing. I’ll look up into the sky and see the red sun bleeding into my eyes. I’ll feel the heat burning the asphalt even through my sneakers. The explosion will come but I won’t wake up. My eyes won’t open at the climax. I’ll burn with the rest of them. I’ll be with Court and into the land of not-there-at-all. And then I’ll think right before it all happens that it feels like I’m dreaming. The End I wrote this like 15 mintutes ago. No editing done-yet.