Sweet dreams are NOT made of these

I rarely remember my dreams at night, good or bad. But every once in a while I have one that's intense enough that I remember most of it, or least very clear visions of certain scenes which transpired. Last night was one of those nights.

And I feel kinda sick.

Maybe it had something to with the fact that for dinner last night, I ate sushi and french fries. Who knows what triggers certain dreams. Normally I find the notion of dream interpretation sort of fascinating. Not that I place a whole lot of stock behind things like that, but it's just one of those curious things that you can't help wondering about. But last night's dream...well, I don't wanna analyze it at all. I don't want to think about it enough to even be able to analyze it.

I don't think I even want to mention anything about the dream here. I just don't want to relive any of it. But, I can't just leave it at nothing, so here's an abbreviated version.

It wasn't a "scary" dream, like I was being chased and couldn't get away. I wasn't killing anyone in the dream (though THAT would have made the dream much better). Simply put, there was someone in my dream, someone I've known in real life, whom I never, ever, wish to see again. The fact that this would even come up after all these years just makes me hate my brain, and for a fleeting moment, I really wished that Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind was real.

Just that fact that this person was in my dream isn't the worst of it. My own actions in the dream are what really makes me sick. Let's just say...I was feeling...frisky. Ugh.

This is really tormenting me.

This undesireable person I speak of isn't the one I was frisky with, though. It was this person's real-life companion, whom I hate almost as much...though in the course of the dream this other person morphed into another person, and then I wasn't quite so averse to all the friskiness.

(Sidenote: if I'm misusing who/whom....well, I can't fucking keep it straight, so get used to it.)

I woke up this morning covered in a gross sweat. It was awful. It still feels awful. I feel like the only way to combat this is to get wasted every night and pass out instead of going to sleep. But, I don't think I have enough money to live like that. And, I'm not so sure my insurance would cover self-inflicted liver failure.

Sigh.

Maybe that would still be better than having a dream like that again.