The strange bliss of ignorance that isn't.

My goal tonight is to be brief. QUIT LAUGHING. Seriously. So, I’ve been drinking much less lately, not because I’m interested in bettering myself, fuck that, I’m not quitter, but pretty much because I can’t fucking afford to anymore. The dudes at the liquor store down the street might have bought me buying 9 dollar whiskey the first time…You know, ‘cause it’s for a party and I don’t like the guy that much…but like the 10th time you go in there for the same quart of rotgut, they don’t just check your ID. They check your ID and write your goddamn name down. I’m to pretty to be a suspect, so I’m cooling my jets until the next paycheck. Needless to say reality has pretty much FUCKED ME UP lately and I’ve been having some trouble sleeping. Last night was pretty typical. I lie down on my pallet with my laptop watching the BBC blue planet documentary about the deep ocean. Then I watch it again. Then I watch it again. Then I watch it again and punch something. Then I think about why it is that even though I can crush ants between my fingers, one could probably fall off a building and land perfectly in one piece and walk away, but there is no ant that could squish me (on earth), and if I fall of a building I’m totally a puddle and BAM! I’m dozing off. This hour to hour and a half is when I do like 90 percent of my dreaming. But I almost never remember what about. Last night was different.
It was black, I mean pitch midnight black, and I was an airplane and Diving HARD. I could feel the wind and I could hear the sound of me approaching the ground, like the sound the coyote made in the cartoons when he fell of a cliff. And then I realized that even though I was diving almost straight down and there was all of this tension and fear in me about crashing, I wasn’t going to hit anything. Ever. There was no ground. It was just endless dark free space. And there being no bottom suddenly meant that there was no top either and I wasn’t diving anymore. I was just fucking GOING. Faster than the word could ever mean. I was moving with the momentum of GALAXIES. It would be wrong to say I was flying, or at least I was flying the way wind flies… a smaller current in an ocean of air. I looked all around me for some point of reference and there was only the lights at the tips of my wings, blinking… green…black…green…black. So I started twirling. Just spinning around randomly to make light trails around me in all that darkness, which is how I used to put myself to sleep when I was a kid accept I used glow in the dark silly putty and I would just make figure eights. I could hear passengers inside me screaming and yelling but in a roller coaster kind of way, like they were clinging for dear life in a storm of silver bags of peanuts and tiny liquor bottles, but they still had their arms up in the air, palms open.
And then I woke up. And it was still dark. And I had left my window open because of how hot it gets in my room. And above me, struggling against the rush from my ceiling fan, were fireflies. Like 5 or 6 of them. Flashing their secret messages to each other, making light trails of their own.