when i dream, i dream of you

I sleep peacefully. Like a 97 year old former porn star that's been in a orgasm-induced coma for twenty years. I have an ever present grin that can't be sand blasted off of me (and a pretty nice hard on). Ever since my arrival at the Perch, I have not known a restless night. Not one. It's nothing about my surroundings that is making the difference; there is nothing new about my bedding, the air isn't particularly comforting (in fact, it's thick with humidity, which isn't my favorite) and there is the every present sound of "city" outside my window. I have every reason and condition that would make most people sleep like a man on the run. Instead, I pass out and don't sense life for 7 solid hours(unless I have to pee).

My days are blissful and filled with joy. It's as if life no longer has any challenging obstacles for me to overcome. Life tries to trip me up, just like it does for everyone, but the obstacles just add to my bliss and I savor each day. I enjoy just about everything that happens every day, even the unbearable things make me smile. Not right away, but eventually.

Yeah, life is pretty rosy for me...

So you would think that a man living in my world would have nothing left to dream about when he sleeps. If life is just a step below enlightenment all the time, what could my mind long for...

During my sleep, my dreams are filled with all kinds of imagery. I see different worlds; mountain landscapes, deserts, jungles, empty cities, and endless prairies. These worlds are open to me to explore and do pretty much whatever I want. There is danger there, laughter, exploration, violence, sex, and there is always...

Cigarettes.

It's unbearable. Every dream I have is a nightmare. Every moment I have them is a torture. Everyone I meet in my dreamscape is half demon, half angel. Two uncompatible halves of a painful whole. The entity comes to me in many forms; women, men, animals and thoughts, but they all have the same purpose - They want me to smoke.

And I do. And it's good. And there is much rejoicing. There is very little resistence on my part to their temptation.

It always starts the same; I'm doing dream things and someone around me starts to smoke. I can smell the rich scent of burning tobacco in my nostrils and it burns inside me. The slowly crawling smoke rising from the cigarette calls to me like a Siren on the rocks. I always inhale deeper when I know there is smoke in the air so I can share in the rush of the nicotine. After three or four deep inhalations I can feel the rebirth of my lifelong addiction. I try to fight it, but it's too late. I have to have them.

I don't buy them and I don't ask for one, but somehow I have them. One minute I am not a smoker and I feel great. The next minute - I am sneaking off to smoke a cigarette where no one can see me. It's hard to find a place to hide from the judging eyes that I can feel all around me.

I love it. I savor every last second of those delicious, familiar, comforting cigarettes I like to call - Home.

I can't stop smoking in my dreams and I feel that I have actually started smoking again in reality. It's an odd sensation and I usually like it. The second I realize that I am a smoker again, I start to think of everyone that will be disappointed and I start to think of ways to explain myself. I'm still smoking while I'm trying to think of all these great excuses and that helps me cope with the dishonesty of it all.

I wake up every morning and the first thing I do is look for a reason to start smoking again. The dreams are so real to me that if I had a pack next to my bed I know I would smoke one. OH to find a reason to start again, to make the dreams come true. When I think of all the reasons why I shouldn't start I just find reasons that I should. Probably the most frightening reason - I was raised to be a smoker.

So I wake from my peaceful sleep and I shake off the dreams the best I can. It helps that the first thing I do is sit up in bed, look out my window and stare down at the Oompa Loompas who are all outside, smoking and waiting for their drug re-education classes to start. I look at their crystal meth sores on their arms and faces. I look at their toothless mouths, their deep set blackened eyes and I watch them fidget about from various forms of withdrawl. I listen to their grating diction filled with, "I seen this guy" and "There ain't no way" and "Godsmack rocks"...

...and I don't want to smoke anymore. THAT'S the value of darkness! And why I sleep so well. When you know that life is going to trip you up and you can see it coming, AND you know how to handle it, you sleep like a man that doesn't mind stumbling.