i found something of yours - please come get it

i usually had good dreams. every once in awhile i had bad dreams. lately, things have been a little uneasy though. i keep waking up to vague dreams, distraught and confused. I get out of bed and go through the motions of everyday, return to bed in the evening, to again have consistent, disturbingly confusing, dreams that are difficult to remember, comprehend or even parse. last night I woke during another of these dreams and was awakened quickly enough to finally realize they are not my dreams. the dreams are happening in my sleep, but they are not mine. I am aware of the dreams and their unpleasant nature, but i am not in them, and I don't know why someone or something else would need my mind for dreaming, or how they got in there or when they will leave, but it is odd - pushed outside my own mind. this is not a story, and there is no point. i thought maybe it would help me to try and describe it. i would like it to stop.

Garbage Day

I try not to post specific personal details relating to this blog; however, I believe it is warranted in this case. I apologize to any readers for leaving you without a post (or an explanation) for the past month. Most heartfelt though, is my apology to squirrel. It was my intention to share the Happiness Quest!TM experience with squirrel so that both of us would benefit from a positive message, bonding, and retreat. It seems that it (Happiness Quest!TM), instead, turned out to create an absolutely devastating aftermath. In the weeks since Happiness Quest!TM, neither squirrel nor I have written anything. I personally have been wavering in, and sometimes out, of depression. Squirrel will not return my emails, or phone calls. I sent the police over to his house to make sure he wasn't dead. The cops reported back to me that squirrel was, in fact, alive, but would be, in their opinion, in fact, better off dead. It was just this morning that I saw squirrel for the first time since the retreat. He was hunched over, in a dirty bathrobe, wearing one matted-fuzzy slipper, the other foot bare, his fur disheveled. He appeared to be wearing a tinfoil hat, with an unlit cigarette hanging out of mouth as he was dragging a garbage can out to the curb. I called out to him, but he did not acknowledge me at all. He turned around, shuffled back into his house and that was that. I checked the garbage can, other than a foul stench, it was empty, and he either missed garbage pickup by three days, or is four days early.
Anyway, I am still trying to get okay myself. I don't know what to do for squirrel. Just thought I would let you know what I know - he didn't look good. I might go so far as to say, damaged. Damn you, Happiness Quest!TM.