This is not a warning

As I understand myself, my dreams are not all that strange. I mean, there are the odd ones where I wake up and recognise that “Oh god that was messed up,” but then again, those are pretty normal. Everyone has those. The strange dreams come when I have over indulged late at night in some form of media and I’m sick.

I have a cough that only affects me at night, but means I can’t sleep for coughing. Last night I’d spent the two hours before going to bed reading Achewood. Because I was coughing I ended up in a gap between being awake and asleep, trying to stop myself from coughing again, and I was sure that somehow it was Ray’s fault. Ray from Achewood. The cat wearing a thong. I didn’t think that it was a character’s fault, but a real talking billionaire cat called Ray. Presumably Ray fixed whatever the problem with my lungs was and I got to sleep eventually.

Another time when I had a cold and had been playing a strategy game, my body lost all form and my mind lost higher consciousness. The contours of my body became the terrain for the soldiers to make war over, and I could only experience pain. I had no memory of the past except the vague feeling that I had not always been in pain, but I lacked the ability to condense this knowledge in to language or even images.

It... it was unpleasant.