How’s this for a psychotic break?
- I just found out that I don’t really live in an apartment, I have a room at a mental institution.
- I’ve been here since 1984, hence the old post, “You died in a hotel room in 1984. Everything since then has been a dream.”
- It turns out that my “best friend” is really my doctor.
- I don’t know who the woman I refer to as “my wife” is. She may be a friend, a sister, or someone else here at the institution. I don’t know who she is, but she seems nice, and I’m glad she comes to visit.
- A woman I thought I knew from work is actually my wife, which explains why she comes to visit me “at work” all the time.
God I hope that was a dream, and I’m awake now.
(These are actual notes from an old dream. Instead of posting them here, I email’d them to a friend many years ago, and just found them here in 2015 as I was looking for something else in my old emails. I had a bad case of “the shakes” after this dream, and I was a couple of hours late to work as a result of that.)