I must blog, and welcome.,
A lot of people are scared, I imagine... I personally culminate my fears in dreams. I might as well blog about those.
I dreamed at first that I was phoned by services in mental health saying - Martin Katz is unwell, and it is because you are increasingly psychotic. I could see their meaning in this, and although I care about Martin, could not see how I was currently in a breakdown. And, from where I remained (a house in the Garden Suburbs), my brother Ryan and I laughed at their request I come in to be examined. Yet services, in the form of psychiatric nurses, managed to get inside the large house, where I was asking my brother to get me some hash, to calm my brain (which these days would not do such a thing; but make things worse). We laughed at the services, but soon they were entered into our place of residence and threatening my brother with anti-psychotic injection. I fought this, and we were in the right, but I have an image of their trying to restrain Ryan and inject him. My only course of action to avert this disaster, was to grasp Ryan by a piece of flesh on his back, that must have hurt him. Yet we were still in the right, and services had nothing on us, yet they still persisted to save Martin's mind by the action of medicating me, and I brought out my phone to "go live" on facebook and the phone had been recording the audio of the entire debacle, much to the dismay of the psychiatric nurses (they appeared sanitised and medicinally clean). The dream ended with a vision of Ryan being held by three of these nurses, and then I awoke, and went to eat a piece of bread with cacik.
And the next part of the dream, when I got back down after food, began. And there was Rochelle (a friend of my sister's), and my sister, in my mother and father's bedroom, and there was pink and perhaps allusion to childhood. I picked something up, perhaps an illness shard by the girls, but as much is not clear. But nevertheless I picked up an illness, in which small caterpillar-like creatures squeezed out from white pores in my skin, and I had to go to hospital. Here, everyone was having a similar illness, and there was my mother, perhaps suffering too, I don't know, yet in any case there she was sharing a bed next to someone I feel pained to say was my mother's auntie and friend, June. But my illness worsened: Caterpillar-like animals crawled out of pores in my skin, and I was worse for wear, but since it was an epidemic, I was able to leave. And in the dichotomous position of leaving or staying, it was the case that many people would contract the same illness, including doctors. We all took our positions in hospital beds, my mother, my mother's friend, and a doctor who became most unwell, and yet tried to help us all. Then, my sister being quite well and not in the vicinity, my brother arrived to take care of us by purchase of drinks and snacks, and meanwhile the hospital ward was going mental, with the epidemic taking full effect. And now, my brother exposed to the illness, he contracted it, and found this out by talking to a black girl who told him of his condition, which Ryan could not believe, and called out to his black friend, Keith, and apologised to me in the process, yet I understood the whole thing, and have always wanted to feel this understanding. And then an inpatient was there, Alistair, and had a deck of cards. He was a Scottish man, and knew every trick there was (I also had a deck of cards). His method of trickery was rough-edged, yet we compared tricks - well - Alistair was able to trick me a number of times, and I myself was unable to gain leverage over his mastery... his double-lifts were better than mine; his mind-reading tricks were better... The small, brown hair Scot soon turned out to have been a doctor all the while, and smiled at my efforts, which nothing could beat him. Alistair, being victorious, went back to his position as NHS hospital staff, and my illness continued. However, now, I wanted to leave, to get home to see my father, and went out into the hospital ground and found a bus, and went on the bus, and went back to my area where my father was waiting at home, where I really wanted to be. There was some altercation on the bus upon which some frenzy was taking place to do with the driver and passengers, and money, and it was a full bus, with mothers and .... mainly mothers, and i got back there to my area, near the park.
I spent the rest of the night feeling weak with a respiration issue due to smoking. I could not sleep in, and need to work. Thinking over my time in life, and my failings before God, I finally resolved to fight the illness and woke up to breakfast and sit down to work.
I must try to get on with things today. I am now on Unit 23 - The Fermi gas and solid-state physics. It is nigh on impossible. I shall be lucky to pass, but we shall see.
I fail to be able to see what else I have to blog about.
Wait.
Yesterday was Martin Katz's 64th birthday. I sung him Happy Birthday several times. Martin cried throughout the day - it can't have been a very nice day. At about six o'clock Ryan needed my assistance in doing some tree work, in which I had to help the boy with picking a stump-grinding machine off his green van, and on, and off again, and I love that boy so much. And whenever I work with him, I feel an affinity for manual labour. But, however it appears to be the case - through mental health issues, or academic work and so on - I am at heart a cerebral person, and have not much love for this type of working. Nevertheless, I was able to see my boy, my brother, and we had great... how you say... banter - and we laughed and joked, and we bantered all the while, back in the old town of Burnt Oak, where we spoke of past friends that live in the area, and chatted and laughed about this or that, and it is always nice to see the boy - my boy. I took snaps and films as he chopped down tree stumps with his chainsaw, and then ground them out using the machine, and he (the boy) is becoming even larger in his arms, and fitter in his general fitness. We laughed and joked, and by the end I was able to leave the conversation we were having, which was about the species of trees, and whether one could tell if a tree was male or female, and their names, and their birth names or species name, and then people around being categorical as unto a tree (I have, for example, recently named a Copper Beech by the name Henry, which I thought a good name) - I was able to leave the day's talking on a high note, by activating my deepest charm, and finally saying something poignant as we departed - something I have always wanted to do. But before this I received a WhatsApp message from my sister Corina, which said that her three year old son Rio was enjoying the gift which I bought him, which was a third-party nintendo machine, and by the looks of the picture, it seemed he was really into it.
Then later, Corina texted me the information that Rio found gaming difficult, but that he would try. He's just like all us Besties - we all try. We all try.
Peace, and good morning to you.
Dan
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