Almost sleeping...

Much of the weekend was spent sleeping. It might be the allergies. They tend to knock me out in the beginning of May. Yes, drugs would probably be the answer here. Sleep ends up being a seemingly healthier choice. Seemingly healthier, until I have to move a bit faster, until my back just does not want me to, until the lights dim even when there are no lights anywhere, when the blood pressure lets me know that I could have spent the day running. Running, or running something. And the dreams were very strange and simple this weekend. They were great reminders that my skull is just a home of one of those average brains that are stimulated sometimes, but not always. In psychoanalysis veritas... no cures for cancer found in these assemblages of blamage. And maybe it is okay this way. I should not be upset with myself for having had less than brilliant dreams. I can imagine that even Goethe dreamt of some pretty trivial stuff now and then. And I am not comparing myself here, just trying to find an excuse for something I only barely influence. Or maybe completely after all? A "Piano Man" was found in a mantal institution in England. ANd I immediately asked myself what would have happened if anybody found me. They would have given me a piece of paper perhaps, and then another and then another... and I would have probably just ended up in a giant room with some other people who just fill page upon page with drawings... On the other hand... I am waiting for the "trumpet man" to emerge ("He drew a trumpet and we gave him one and he played wonderfully for seven hours.") or the "telephone man" ("he drew an elaborate picture of a telephone and we gave it to him and he immediately called his lawyer and spoke with him for seven hours.") I need to spend some time locked into the smallest room of my apartment. I call the room the "trailer" as it remotely resembles one by shape. I should just draw for hours and hours and days and nights. Yes, this is what I should do. And this is what I am going to do. I resigned my job almost two weeks ago. I have one more week to visit the office in midtown... and then it is going to be all drawing. And maybe this will be when the dreams finally stop being about advertising. And I hope that this will be when I will finally stop having all of those health issues related to stress. I will probably see that pathetic number on my back account shrink with unstoppable determination. I will probably see my credit card bills be more and more ridiculous. I will maybe have dreams of drawing. And draw some of my dreams. I am really looking forward to this. It had to happen. If not now... when? Much of the weekend was spent sleeping. Not all of it was spent sleeping. And the time awake was quite magical. And this morning, when I went to the mexican place to get my breakfast, the neighborhood between the park and the cemetery felt like Holland, or the Belgian coast. Maybe England? It felt definitely European. I enjoyed every moment of this and all the other positive illusions. I just need to work on those strange fears and things... but maybe not. Maybe these are the things that ultimately help to keep me alive. Oh, good. I think I am very ready for the next few weeks.