For the last month, more or less, I have been tormented by some pretty odd and surprisingly vivid dreams. Some have been fairly immersive, giving me the power to explore the dreamworld at me leisure, while some have appeared as faint projections against the inside of my eyelids. Because of my odd schedule, I often power nap. Inspired by Leonardo da Vinci's bizarre sleep habits, I am finding that short sleep periods are doing a lot to shake up my consciousness. Whether for good or bad, it has a tendency to make the line between dreams and reality somewhat tenuous. Here's today's product:

I was running from something, and arrived at my office building, gasping for air. Everything seemed normal, but once I was inside, the place became a sort of house of mirrors, and I could not find my way to my desk. This might have something to do with the fact that I've had trouble concentrating on work for the last month. I noticed that the soft drink vending machine was in a different location, and that it was no longer a Dr Pepper machine, but a Coca Cola machine. Initially, I thought that I had entered the wrong building. THEN, I saw my friend, Mark the weatherman. He seemed to be talking to people that I couldn't see -- much like he talks to a television audience in the TV studio. Well, I pulled him aside, and told him that this was my dream and that I wanted for him to help me to get out of it. At that moment, his expression went from animated to complete blankness. I grabbed him by the shoulders, shoved him against the door, and repeated myself. Still blank. I looked into his eyes, and he seemed transfixed by something -- sort of the "thousand yard stare", as if seeing something from beyond. For a moment, I thought to myself, "well, I know this to be a dream, so it's not going to hurt anything if I smash down the door with him, but I stodd fast, wondering what else I could do to wake up. I am not sure what those last bits meant, but the agitation must have increased my heart rate enough to wake me up. It was probably an entire hour before I felt fully seated in reality again. Friends tell me that when they suffered a breakup, that their dreams have been the only shelter from the pain. Well, it appears to be a little backwards with me. My waking hours tend to be peaceful, while my dreams are riddled with struggles.