Well, I did get some sleep, but not enough. It rarely feels as if it is enough. I don't care for chemically induced sleep as much as natural sleep. Though if that is all that life offers... "More milk" as Michael Jackson used to say. Just another drop, Doc, to get me through the night. Who can begrudge a little chemically induced coma to a person in acute pain of consciousness.
The hours tick away, the days slip by.
I had some Diprivan recently. As I was going under I could see my medical bracelet. It said "Morphine" on it. I had been told many years before that this was one of my allergies. I mentioned this to the anesthesiologist and he didn't seem to understand the reference. I explained that Morpheus was the god of dreams, though I don't recall if I ever finished the sentence or not. The loss of consciousness is so fast that one can not be adequately conscious of it, though I tried.
If only sleep could arrive that easily every night. I would have my own doctor also, if I could. On this point I stand with Michael Jackson. Well, now I guess I would have to lie with Michael Jackson, but that sounds too ominously biblical or metaphorically dark. I'm far too old for his tastes anyways.
But, in my day… I was a cute kid, but probably not dying enough to arouse his interests.
Neverland could always be read as two words.
Jesus, I should stop this. I don't know what's happened to me. I'm resorting to crass shock alone to propel my interest in writing on to the next paragraph. It's a filthy habit and hard to kick, like explaining Greek mythology to doctors.
He was probably thinking, Oh, you won't be dreaming at all on this stuff, buddy, but try if you'd like.
When I came out of the dark lands I asked for my phone. I wanted to text a girl, to let her know that I had survived. I had requested that she say a little prayer for me, though I do not suspect her to be the Christian type, but one need not be a believer to offer words to the cosmos. I do it all of the time when I find myself near the foot of a temple.
I close my eyes and listen to the silence until I hear a familiar voice asking me what I would like done with my body once I am gone.
My answer is always the same, Surprise me.
.
