Tuesday, January 31, 2012

My Hands are a Little Dirty.

The other night my brain did that thing where I have waking nightmares and sleep paralysis, and I hate that shit.

Right after I graduated from college, during my brief stint in grad school before I realized it was a waste of time and money, three very important things happened:  (1) I got really into The X-Files, (2) I saw The Notebook and realized Ryan Gosling was a crazy, crazy creepo, and (3) I taught myself how to control the action in my dreams. Lucid dreaming is almost automatic for me, but then again that's just the awareness of being in a dream, and not controlling the action.

But sometimes the dream fights back and won't let me take charge, and then it makes fun of me.  It's like my psyche is lashing back over having too much control and starts to fuck with me.  So I will dream about Ryan Gosling, for example, and then my dream will make him speak, and speaking completely defeats the purpose of people like Ryan Gosling, who is not a real person at all.  If he had a voice like, say, LA Confidential-era Russell Crowe or Fabulous Baker Boys-era Jeff Bridges or always-era Paul Newman, things would be different.  But he doesn't.  He speaks like Ryan Gosling, or an audible abusive relationship, which means he always sounds a little bit drunk and kinda pervy and sensitive to the point of serious violence. He's best in photographs with feminist thought bubbles and Drive

So Ryan Gosling and dream-Rassles are in an elevator boudoir, and I am like, "Oh, this dream is about to get ab-tastic" and then Ryan Gosling speaks, and dream-Rassles is all, "No good.  Talk like Bruce Willis" and he totally ignores me and smirks and then dream-me is all, "shut UP Ryan Gosling" and Ryan Gosling is all, "u wan me ta shoo urp n hid mer emoshins? Za wah u wan?" and I'm all "YES" and he takes off his shirt and starts to fucking cry, wiping his nose on the bedsheets, and I'm like "How about this - shut your mouth or I'll kick your teeth down your throat and I'll shut it for you" and he smashes a window and starts carving my name into his arm with a giant shard of glass and then he just looks at me.  Like a horny Labrador.  And I'm all "stop eyefucking me, Gosling" and then he gets stigmata and a bunch of Golden Globe nominations.

But that wasn't my nightmare.

For those who aren't familiar with it--during that stretch of time between wakefulness and legit sleep, if you can slide yourself in there...that's how you start actively influencing your dreams.  At least, that's how it works with me.  Usually I have to make the conscious decision before I sleep.

The problem is this: sometimes I don't make the decision and my brain gets switched around, so instead of me consciously controlling the dream, I have no idea I am dreaming and everything is fucking terrifying and more realistic than life.

So the other night I was laying in bed, waiting to fall asleep, when a severed head started throwing up on my stomach, and I was like, "WHAT THE FUCK" but I couldn't move or speak. But then I heard my dog and I strained to move my eyes and just out of the corner I saw a giant fucking Overlord gargoyle beating my dog, alternating between my Louisville Slugger and his rocky fists, and I could hear my dog screaming and I tried to cry and snarl, and then someone started smashing rocks through my bedroom window and the gargoyle like apparated over to me and raised the bat above my head, beating his wings and laughing like a small child, and I was struggling and trying to move because my dog was still alive and I knew I needed to kill him and put him out of his misery, he whimpered and sputtered to breathe, and I couldn't fight and fucking kill everything around me, I couldn't do that, and I couldn't cry and I was so, so, so scared, and the vomit was coagulating all around me and slipping down my sides and it smelled like roadkill and old milk and the severed head rolled between my legs.

And I woke up screaming and sweating and yelling, "WHAT THE FU--" and I felt the shadowed gargoyle whisp away, and I felt the bat land on my neck and bounce off my jugular and heard it thwack into my dog and clatter on the ground, and I heard my dog die, I felt my crushed windpipe and the warm vomit and at the "--UCK!" and I woke up, and all was well.  But I was sure it was there.  I was so sure.

I smashed my head into the wall behind me, and I started crying. 

I walked over to the corner and picked up my bat, which was resting nicely where it lives. And I carried it around my apartment and I looked in every single corner, because I was sure.  It was there.  I knew it.  But I was clean, and my dog lives with my parents.  I turned on all of the lights.  No one was there.  I took a shower.  I got dressed and walked around the block with the bat.  When I got home I watched Drive.  Twice.

Now, I know it's sleep paralysis.  I'm familiar with it.  But can't my brain come up with something less sinister? Some people just imagine a monkey sitting there at the foot of the bed, but no, with me it's all baffing severed heads and dog-murdering gargoyles. I wrote this letter:

Dear My Brain,
Please stop being so scary. You are not helping.
Regards, Me

I've been grinding my teeth for days.  It hurts my jaw and my head.  And it's like, why can't my paralyzing dreams be of Ryan Gosling?  I don't mind his voice that much.  I swear.

...

13 comments:

Gina said...

Ooh but Ryan is weirdly attractive to me now. Last two films of crazy stupid love ( hello abs) plus drive equals ladyboner. Voice and all.

Rassles said...

Drive is definitely a ladyboner, but that's because he doesn't talk. He drives. And CrazyStupidLove was...well. It had one good part.

nursemyra said...

Now I absolutely have to rent Drive. though I think I'll always love him best in Half Nelson

daisyfae said...

i'm pretty sure i wouldn't recognize ryan gosling on the street if he were growling at me and flashing his abs and emotions in my face... but i would pay good money to see your elevator dream as an indie film...

as for the paralysis? i'm pretty sure i'd wake up in a puddle of my own bodily fluids after a nightmare like that. or does it paralyze that part of your body, too?

savvy said...

dude. this happens on sunday nights after a hard drinking weekend. the sisters smith call it "night terrors and detox sweats"

jorg wobblington lopez said...

Have you read "Damned" by chuck palahniuk? IT reminds me of your dream.

Logical Libby said...

My worst moments are when I am conciously trying to wake up, but I can't move or open my eyes. It makes me tired.

Sweet(er) dreams!

Rassles said...

Gyna: (when I say CSL had one good part I mean abs)

Rass: You are brilliant.

Nurse: I did enjoy Half Nelson, but he hasn't really varied any of his performances yet. Like Leonardo DiCaprio-I will watch anything Leo is in, but I never forget that I'm watching Leonardo DiCaprio act like Leonardo DiCaprio. Gosling is like that.

Daisy: You just can't move. Sometimes it's not nearly so scary, but it usually happens after my sleep schedule gets drastically rearranged somehow.

Savvy: I was going to give you a real response but instead I'm all like OMG YOU COMMENTED ON MY BLOG

Jorg: No, I haven't. I will now obsessively check the comments on Amazon to determine if that is a compliment or not. Either way, being compared to Palahniuk is flattering. Right? So thanks.

Libby: It IS tiring, isn't it? Exhausting.

savvy said...

yea. i have taken to reading your blog in study hall again. lol-ing in front of the kids as i sit there and secretly read your profanity ridden sexy dream stories...good times. but yea, it's called night terrors, and detox sweats.

Gyna said...

Duh

Diary of Why said...

I just watched Drive last night, so this post makes more sense now.

I love Ryan Gosling. I could listen to him talk forever. Ira Glass, too. I don't know what it is, but I love that mumbly, adorable, chewing on their words thing they do. Ira Glass isn't mumbly, I'm describing this wrong. Is it an accent? It's not. I don't know what it is. But I love it.

Ellie said...

You have the power of Dream Control!

Jessica said...

I was just thinking about sleep paralysis the other day because of this podcast: http://redbarradio.net/shows/red-bar-radio-02-15-12/

The host was asking why everyone's minds go to something negative or scary or supernatural instead of something positive. I've only had sleep paralysis once and nothing too crazy happened. I "woke up" and thought I was in a coma and felt terrified. I tried to breathe faster and couldn't; tried to cry and couldn't. It was terrifying, but not full of action like yours.

I am so jealous of your lucid dreaming ability, by the way. I have had a few of those in my life, but they take a lot of work. I need to never drink booze and really meditate before sleeping and then sleep over 8 hours, it seems. Maybe I'll start trying again.

My brain mocked me too when I had lucid dreams. I remember realizing I was dreaming and thinking "Yes! I'm going to go bang that guy I like!" and I spent the entire dream searching for him. Like I'd see the guy and start running down the street and he'd hop into a car and drive off. If it was maddening.