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Wednesday, 15 November, 2006

I don’t really dream. On rare occasions, I wake in the middle of a dream and remember a little something for a few minutes. So I suppose I am not psychotic and in fact dream, I just don’t remember. This is actually an improvement over the old status quo in which I would have the psychological experience of a nightmare, but became so jaded with time as soon as the symptoms went away I could carry on.

The dogs, who chase me around a Fort Apache: The Bronx landscape on bloody bare feet until I happen upon some kind of obstacle like a fence or wall, have returned. I may soon have to forfeit my life. My name. Not to mention my home, car, etc. Just to carry on. I have another option which would require far less work, but …

I’m going to lose all of you anyway.


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