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Lost has fucked with my mind
teh_orwellian
I was woken this morning by my cell phone ringing though I let it go to voicemail. When I listened to the message it was from New York Psychiatric Services returning my call. This was a wrong number, more than likely, but after a night of insane dreams, I wondered if I did, perhaps, summon a far off state's psychiatric offices to call me just to make sure I was OK.

Having watched a DVR'd episode of the Lost premiere (my wife asked me why they are still using a crummy desktop screensaver for the credits), I took a PM tylenol and hit the proverbial hay. These dreams were bat shit crazy. And scary. I have the habit of waking myself up in the middle of the night and seeing shapes attacking, scurrying, lurking in the shadows of the room. Usually they propel me out of the bed and searching for the light. These dreams have gotten worse in the past decade and last night's was no exception. It is pointless to recreate my dream here, nothing is more boring than hearing someone else recount a dream that they thought was INSANE, but really makes no sense.

Instead I will make some notes about the dreams, thereby remembering the essence of what scared the ever loving shit out of me.

-several people in the dream had progeria, and they wouldn't let me get off the couch, they held me by the neck. When I woke up, i couldn't breathe.

-i couldn't open the blinds to let light into the creepy room. The light from the slats in the blind created a creepy illusion. On the blinds a projector showed two hands playing a piano. I was feeling like I was in the middle of a David Lynch movie.

-two portraits were interesting, in particular, because they were carved into what appeared to be the bark of a tree -- and the faces, distorted and strange, where visible in the knots in the tree bark. I had seen these portraits before entering this room.

-We searched for this apartment, but we couldn't find it at first. We stripped away a panel and the door for the apartment 1141, was hidden behind a rack of clothes, as if the entrance was through someone's closet.

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