"All Goodbyes Should Be Sudden"

In my dreams, I'm a different me...

More violent. More base. Given to terrible desires, not to be shared.

Last night -- in a dream -- I nearly killed an old man with a sharpened spoon to the throat. It was only a dream, why didn't you go ahead and kill him, Malice? Even in dreams, I have morals. Fears of being caught. Will power. But I was prepared to kill him. And he deserved it.

Each night, you have a series of dreams. Often it feels like one dream blurred together. Most of the dreams are forgotten completely, even if I take notes. In another dream last night, it was a movie hybrid where I was partially a spectator and partially a participant. Recalling some of it and thinking about the meaning makes me reticent to share it. But it featured Tilda Swinton playing the part of somebody's wife. But in the dream, she was a grifter, and accidental killer.

I also dreamed of a creature that had the body of a dachshund and the head of a little girl. She wasn't born that way. Someone had made her. Had cut off the head of a little baby and put it on the body of a dachshund. Put her on this little fantasy island resort. She seemed happy/content with her lot in life. There was something so grisly about it. It seemed like such a wonder that she was alive. I couldn't stop thinking about how many babies and dogs they went through before they created one of these creatures that lived.

I've been having a lot of terrible/strange dreams lately. Most of them are forgotten. With only the lingering melody of something truly dreadful.
xxxXxxx
I've just begun the process of redrafting my second play "CHINADOLL OVERDRIVE", yet the writing of my third play "ALL GOODBYES SHOULD BE SUDDEN" (known as the "Assholes" play to my work friend) officially begins today. Nessun dorma. No one sleeps. Not this year.