Monday, January 10, 2011

... the mighty jungle

No...  Nyquil is not the magic balm that I described it as.  I must have slightly overdosed on its cherry-flavored goodness last night. Though I slept reasonably well, once I was allowed to... I awoke in episodes of demonic visions, vaguely entertaining evils of all kinds.  I saw miniature standup samurai beheadings, jungle head swappings, plastic pirate regattas, distorted freak parades, flowers of evil, musical instruments made of liquid chrome metal snakes, and then actual dream snakes.  Defected and deficient abnormals arose and disappeared with apoplectic cries and damaged demands. From sometime after sunrise until sometime before noon carnivalesque scenarios of all sorts played themselves out upon my bruised inner eyelids, yardbirds roamed freely across my mind.

I was finally saved from this French Quarter purgatory by a lone expresso.

I have long measured my inner-health by the nature of my morning visions.  When I am happy my waking dreams reflect pleasantnesses, scenes appear before my mind in which I would wish to remain, to extend my stay.  When I awake from these dreams the voices in my head are likewise repeating positivities, affirmations of goodness, and projections of health.  But when I am recovering from afflictions, self-induced or otherwise, the scenarios become disturbing and unsettled, disconnected from my conscious desires and spiraling towards some awaiting and unfed inner malignancy.  When I awake from these dreams I can also similarly hear the shrill voices of pessimism nagging at me, persisting with messages of negation, denouncement, and denial.

Perhaps tonight I will use the supplied dispensing cup to dole out my mendicant.

It is maybe only contentedness that makes it possible for us to enjoy some forms of misery, otherwise it is likely just misery....

In the jungle, the mighty jungle, the lion sleeps tonight... - "Mbube"