Dreams, They Complicate My Life.

So, it seems that I sleep.

I don't have a head that nods off, or eyelids that close, but late at night my thoughts slow down and get all gappy. Then I come to and find that hours have passed. Is this habit? Or do I need the sleep?

And occasionally, I do seem to have that subconscious free-association and narrative-building thing that we call "dreams."

The strangest one is one I've had a few times, I think both before and after my six-year death sleep. I am running through a forest in Japan (where I served my Mormon mission). At first I'm experiencing it from within my body, but then the camera pulls back and I'm looking at myself, but I can't see what or who is chasing me.

There's writing all over my body, at least the parts I can see, that aren't covered by this white and red kimono, but I can't read any of what it says from this distance.

I fall down, and the camera moves over me, and I'm spread-eagled, on my back, and my clothes are stripped off by some unseen force, then my skin, then each layer underneath that, one after the other--fat, nerves, vessels, muscle, organs. All are torn away from me, intact, and flung somewhere off-screen, and all the while I'm screaming soundlessly. Finally, I'm down to just my bones, and I'm still screaming and flailing about.

And that's where my dream ends.