To dream and experience a kind of reality

A dream about suffering can cut through consciousness shrilly. One is about a naked, weeping girl, who might be wearing make-up and diamonds, cutting into her armpits and guiltily crying about it. [For the dreamer, portions of Epicenter from Transient Songs by Amber Gayle: I feel sharp like miniscule weights / hold me down...and nothing soothes quite like / the cold metallic bliss...no time but this has ever existed...no time but this not time but this...everyone else is in bed, Goddess...I dread the night it is endless / the night and me alone...I cringe / at my own premonitions. ] Wake up to: a T.V. blaring information about torture and brothel slavery. Lots of aircraft flying overhead lately. The noise can make the car shake. Some other information: get housing off post. There was an officer's daughter, and a group of GIs, she kept making suicide attempts, and finally the psychiatrist told her parents. A person whose already got PTSD has got to get deployed again. Addictions to violent video games. What if that's where you were born and you were a girl? All those yucky vibes in the atmosphere. That's what some people don't want to talk about. Not having a good day. Tears spilling out of eyes in the car. Losing it. There is a walk in the park. Try to extricate self from that nonsense. Be better, be better.