Damn You Brain

When I wake up, my eyes won’t open all the way. They are puffy and thick from exhaustion. The rats. The huge infected rats all night in my dreams. I never saw one; I don’t even think they were rats, unless they were murderous rat people from planet Blorch. They pulled people through walls. It was my fault they got loose to begin with. I wanted to make some beds in the cabins on a ship. I didn’t know what was behind locked doors. And just like any really good thriller, as soon as the threat should have been quarantined, someone threw a fit and left, opening the wrong door.

Nightmares. Episodic, nightlong nightmares every night. Running and chasing and hiding, plot and subplots, they are so complex I wake up more exhausted than I could.

My waking life is not hectic enough, so my brain must revolt against me in my sleep.