The mind of a twisted daydreamer

I find that when I skip a dose of my effexor my dreams hit an all time high level of strange. I can't even begin to explain the two dreams that I had while I slept last, but let me tell you, the level of WTF was extremely high. I know that somehow I was instrumental in the death of at least two Disney characters, whom I had offered to resurrect by buying a new stuffed animal. I had found a portal between two places and somehow in finding it had happened upon a bunch of pirate gold that had made me extremely rich. I had a fledgling owl sidekick - screw the parrot, owls are infinitely more awesome - at least according to my subconscious. My longish hair obviously even bothers me in my dreams, because I was complaining about that. It was way too hot too. E and I were involved in some kind of Friday and Saturday night dance club, which seemed highly intensive on the black lighting and mime make-up to participate.

There was a lot more, and I'm only scratching the surface here with what I just wrote. My poor brain is feeling much like a fruit-filled jello mold right now. And yet, somehow most people will not understand that I enjoy sleeping, because the dreams are just that interesting. Now if only I could harness that power and write short stories with it. At least some sci-fi magazine out there would publish me... I think.