"I am Jack's absent REM stage"

I will go to Alcosebre finally! It’s so cool. It’s the first time I compel myself to do something for MYSELF which implies a certain effort to obtain it. Tomorrow I will go to my dreadful doctor, and I will force her, armed if necessary, to discharge me from my sick leave. That’s also a step forward, since it will remove from my mind certain mental anchorages to all what happened to me lately. In addition, I’m going to be with my parents in Alcosebre, and I’m going to be able to give them back some of the lot of affection that they have been giving me during this anxious year. And, to make to make things even more perfect, I’m going to be able to talk directly, face to face, with an important part of my present and past. Though my intention is to chat a lot, but to think not very much. I will have to suffer a very long and hard ride, and I don’t know if I will have the sources to survive alone the weekend, hehehe, but I really don’t give a damn. I’m going to make a different, emotional...

[…] To die, to sleep: to sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub; for in that sleep of death what dreams may come when we have shuffled off this mortal coil, must give us pause: there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, the pangs of despised love, the law's delay, the insolence of office and the spurns that patient merit of the unworthy takes, when he himself might his quietus make with a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, to grunt and sweat under a weary life, but that the dread of something after death, the undiscover'd country from whose bourn no traveller returns, puzzles the will and makes us rather bear those ills we have than fly to others that we know not of? Thus conscience does make cowards of us all; and thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, and enterprises of great pith and moment w...

At these moments my “twin soul” (the more I use this term, the more absurd it seems to me) will be lost in some place of the world enjoying the honeymoon with his recent wife. And at these moments, because of diverse reasons, I have reached the conclusion that I’m out of my mind, and I don’t think this may be caused by the tangle of anxiety pills. Not at all. This comes from looooong ago. At these moments, it’s also probable that I have started the slow and long way which will drive me to the absolute solitude, agreed with my chronicle of an announced dementia. I think I must take a break, at least in order to meditate if I should make my will while it seems that my mental faculties are intact. Maybe I will take a short trip to Alcosebre with my parents. This is also a curious thing, by the way… because Alcosebre carries, without a doubt, a great amount of my existential memory. And perhaps leaving this blog a bit alone for a couple of days would also be a good thing. Well, life is str...

Don Quixote is talking. He believes, immerse in his madness, that he’s going to be ordained knight. Now I must consider how sages of the future will describe this historic night. (He recites, with airs of grandeur) Long after the sun had retired to his couch... darkening the gates and balconies of La Mancha, Don Quixote, with lofty expression and measured tread... held vigil in the courtyard of a mighty castle. (He stops his speech, meditates, and then continues in a humble tone of voice) Ohh… Maker of empty boasts... On this of all nights to give way to vanity. No, Don Quixote… No! Take a deep breath of life and consider how it should be lived. Call nothing thine except thy soul. Love not what thou art, only what thou may become. Do not pursue pleasure or thou mayest have the misfortune to overtake it. Look always forward. In last year's nests there are no birds this year. Be just to all men, courteous to all women. Live in the vision of the one for whom great deeds are done... D...

Last night at daybreak, while I was trying to get to sleep, I understood what being an “authentic Gemini” really means. It doesn’t determine a duality of personalities (only 2? I think they must be at least 22) and such other things. It refers to the concept of opposition. To be a Gemini means to be always, until the day I die, in constant fight against myself. It means to be creating me a personality and a soul that are the glorious solution and the aberrant problem at the same time. It implies that my mind and heart are simultaneously my best friends and my cruellest and most ruthless adversaries.

"A soul friend is someone who brings out the best in you, someone who gives energy to your soul so it can continue growing. Not all the things have a limited growth." - Some character in "Six feet under" The term "soul friend" doesn’t please me too much because I hate when it’s necessary to add adjectives or comparatives to the word "friend". This proves how much worn out is this word because of our underestimation of it. But it’s the meaning of this phrase which really matters to me today. Today. One more day in which I find myself thinking and realizing how lost I am. And how much mistaken are all my absurd theories. Today I only want to remind that, as one of my soul friend says, “It’s not the end what matters. It’s the path” . Fernando Sanchez Dragó (Spaniard journalist and writer), who has so many hateful things, also has very good opinions sometimes. Once I heard him explaining one of his theories about life after death. He said, more or le...

Yesterday night I had a nightmare. It wasn’t a really-really-bad one. But it was intense. When I awakened the sensation was bad, but normal. I no longer feel the Sopor, unless I might fall asleep because of an impossible-to-avoid nap. I haven’t felt the greater side effects for a week. I have overcome the queasiness, the Sopor, the incapacity to awake before noon and the absolutely strange dream, although the dreams have not turned into normal either, of course. But today is going to be a day in which I will want to die. Intense figures from the past are returning to my life. Many wounds are being closed, but, in exchange, new others are opening. And these are deeper, and won’t ever heal completely because their conditions. Even they already show a marked scar around them. I confess, from the certain anonymity given by this space, that yesterday I looked at the abandoned boxes of thousand types of barbiturates, anxiolytics and antidepressants in other way. In my solitude this way of lo...

If I have to be honest I thought, immersed in my anguish and desperation, that Monday’s differences in my mood and feelings would be greater. I feel better, but I’m still carrying most of the effects of abstinence. I’m very fed up with this. I’m quite tired. And people are pissing me off a lot. I have discovered that there are only two manners in which others face your anxiety. But it’s seven in the morning and I haven’t been able to sleep yet, so I’d better will ramble about it later. Few minutes ago I have seen the movie “The Illusionist”. Mmmmmmmmm. What an absolutely delicious Edward Norton. I could do anything to star the movie’s "kiss scene", sexual tension included too, of course. Thinking such things (and rewind and play again and again the scene in the Realplayer) helps me to face the anguishes and anxieties from another point of view. Moreover I have enjoyed the film a lot too. The fact of finding “bed stories for adults” once in a while is very pleasant.

I haven’t been able to sleep well. I have been suffering sudden awakenings (at least a pair per hour) until the 8:00 am. Almost any sound made me wake up abruptly. And the heat has not helped much either. But it looks like I have got calm finally, and a pair of earplugs has made the rest. I think I’m better. The Sopor and queasiness persist but they are less intense. And the dreams, although being rare, seem much more like the typical ones. I have dreamed again with the idea of releasing more sensuality and sexuality. “Self-affirmation” is a precious and valuable feeling at this moment of life in which I am. Because these days I’m a bundle of traumas and tensions from the past, all of them orchestrated to perform "Anxiety". I can’t lie. The more I think in it the more I see "necessary" the option to find a lover who brings me that self-affirmation. Me and my man left the subject of “freedom” parked off, but not because I think differently. I imagine him having a fli...

At least I have fixed up a little bit the matters with my man. Weeping included. Also I have talked with some of my friends. Restrained weeping included. They have wished me a lot of strength. And they have reminded me that I’ve reached this point alone, by myself, despite of all the negligent experimentation that many doctors have done with my case. And if I have been able to reach this point alone then the end of the tunnel is quite near. I have very special people standing by me. That’s the truth. I’m very tired. I’m sleepy. But closing my eyes and beginning to dream is something that still fears me a lot. I still feel a deep queasiness, though I feel better in general, more animated and calmed. I have been playing with my cats and I have laughed a lot. I believe that it’s a good signal finally.

I feel very queasy. And sad. And angry… And I’m still in day 3. Fuck! Time cannot pass slower!! My boyfriend gets pissed off when I’m such sick, because at these moments he realizes that he doesn’t have the recommended daily minimum amount of sensitivity based on empathy. He has inherited/learned this behavior from his mother. If I ever listen again any commentary insinuating that I’m suffering and moaning this for the sake of it, or words insinuating that I haven’t tried hard enough to overcome this situation at its beginning... I’m going to drive myself into a “House M.D.” mood. This is: brutally honest. How can NOBODY pretend to fix up mental problems with pathetic commentaries which only evidence an exacerbated selfishness? Mental problems that must be treated from psychiatry and psychology, two sciences which fills up, my ladies and gentleman, even university careers!! "If you don’t sleep it’s because you don’t get tired, oh sure, you are off sick...", "I think that...

I have waked up several times along the sleep. At 7:43, at 10:15, at 12:28, at some minutes past one and finally at 15:17. Then I have been laying down the bed, trying to guess if I was feeling good or wrong until five o’clock. I have dreamed strange dreams but, thanks heaven!!, they weren’t real bad nightmares. And now I’m completely submerged in the Sopor . I’ll try to explain what the Sopor is. I think it would be like wakening up with a plastic bag around the head, tied around the neck, and immersed under 60 feet of muddy water. The worst part of it consists on this: the brain, for a strange reason, doesn’t file away as “Fantasy” the feelings and experiences you have had during the dream. No. They seem to remain in an intermediate place among the Fiction and Reality’s drawers. This sensation causes so much grief and sorrow. So when you have had dreams filled with hard and really terrible nightmares this sensation becomes more than grieving or sorrowing. It’s… well… It’s very, very ...

RESULTS Total time of the registry: 470 minutes Duration of the episode of the dream: 306 minutes Efficiency of the dream: 65% Cycles of REM dream: -- Percentage of the different stages of dream: · Intra-dream wakefulness: 35% · Stage I: 6% · Stage II: 52% · Stage III: 5% · Stage IV: 2% · REM stage: -- Latency of the dream: 21 minutes Latency to 1º REM: -- minutes Number of intra-dream awakenings: 43 (11 minor than 2 minutes, 32 larger than 2 minutes) Episodes of apnea/hipoapnea: -- PULSE METER Average saturation of O2: 94% Maximum saturation of O2: 96% Minimum saturation of O2: 98% Cardiac frequency average: 71 lpm CONSIDERATIONS ON RESULTS The registry shows a dream with a diminished efficiency and an alteration of its structure, since all the stages of slow NREM dream and mainly the REM dream, which is absent , are clearly diminished in frequency. On the other hand, the stages of superficial NREM dream are increased in compensation. These findings appear in relation to the presence...

Yes. The title of this blog is a "tribute" to that great film, starring my simply-magnificent Norton and the too-much-handsome-and-odd-roles'-lover Pitt. I think I have read it's based on a novel. What a pity, sometimes we need to see the famous line "Script based on..." in order to discover some books. "You met me at a very strange time in my life" Yesterday I began my third, and I hope the last, attempt to stop taking anxyolitics once and for all. After a lost year of my life and a pile of different pill’s boxes, some of them even still closed, I think that this is the very best moment to start a personal blog. Sure. Moreover, the morbid fascination of reading about others' problems and the mentions to the Fight Club will make me famous... I'm so afraid of getting asleep. I'm finding the abstinence so awfully hard... My brain decided to start torturing me with nightmares that exceed the typical terror and the habitual anguish. And I k...