Thursday, February 9, 2012

Life is but a dream.

I had a weird dream last night where I was this depressed, crazy person for whom this life I'm leading -- Linda, the store, the writing, the blog, -- all of it was a delusion.

My family had just rescued me from a cult, and I had deep amnesia. My sister tells me, "You had this whole thing built up about a woman named Linda, who as far as we can tell was some girl you met at the library and had a couple of conversations with -- you were basically stalking her."

We have a small vacation house on the coast, where the family had gathered to rescue me.

My family was taking care of me, and I could tell they were tired of it. My mom was still alive, but had Alzheimers, and on and on...

Very detailed.

I've mentioned this before, but when I had depression in the 70's, I slept most the day away and I had vivid dreams, where life was pretty good.

Apparently, I dream the opposite of whatever I am.

Or you people are all an illusion.

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