Part three of the Comfortably Numb series.
This particular work came from a blackout session, so I'm a bit fuzzy on the details. If memory serves, it's about an emotionally distant man fighting a war within his mind, with only the barest of signals making it through to the woman near him.
She might be a researcher examining his psychological condition, but that one's really lost on me.
I don't know about you, but I'd be flipping shit if I saw waves of distorted reality meshing to my form like that.
Looking this picture over a bit more, I'm actually reminded of night terrors, and those weird dreams where you feel like you're falling and then you wake up in mid-spasm. Don't those just suck?
It may just be me, but I always get a little embarrassed after that happens, even though there's nobody around to laugh at me. In a groggy daze, I usually say something along the lines of, "Woah, fuck, why aren't my legs broken?", before rolling over and going back to sleep.
Come to think of it, I actually kind of like that. Anything that involves waking up very briefly and then experiencing that sensation of drifting off to sleep again. That's part of the reason I have alarms set to go off every hour and a half after 1:30 in the morning. The other reason is the acute fear of going so far inside my mind that I get lost and end up going braindead. Talk about not being able to find your way home, shit.
The alarm thing doesn't always work out, though, and on some weekends I'll find myself waking up from a twelve-hour coma, having missed every single alarm and wasted a good portion of my day. One time I was out cold for twenty-one hours, and although I've never found any evidence, I have a strong suspicion that the asshole who served me my food at Waffle House had spiked my waffles.
Also, you ever do that thing where you completely spin around in your sleep and end up with your feet on your pillow? I've done it twice, and both times it happened while I dreamed about my kindergarten teacher making Pez dispensers out of living people. That scared the hell out of me. Take my advice for what it's worth: If you ever find a bag of mixed pills under a bridge, do a three-sixty and moonwalk away. There's probably a real good reason why someone left it there.
She might be a researcher examining his psychological condition, but that one's really lost on me.
I don't know about you, but I'd be flipping shit if I saw waves of distorted reality meshing to my form like that.
Looking this picture over a bit more, I'm actually reminded of night terrors, and those weird dreams where you feel like you're falling and then you wake up in mid-spasm. Don't those just suck?
It may just be me, but I always get a little embarrassed after that happens, even though there's nobody around to laugh at me. In a groggy daze, I usually say something along the lines of, "Woah, fuck, why aren't my legs broken?", before rolling over and going back to sleep.
Come to think of it, I actually kind of like that. Anything that involves waking up very briefly and then experiencing that sensation of drifting off to sleep again. That's part of the reason I have alarms set to go off every hour and a half after 1:30 in the morning. The other reason is the acute fear of going so far inside my mind that I get lost and end up going braindead. Talk about not being able to find your way home, shit.
The alarm thing doesn't always work out, though, and on some weekends I'll find myself waking up from a twelve-hour coma, having missed every single alarm and wasted a good portion of my day. One time I was out cold for twenty-one hours, and although I've never found any evidence, I have a strong suspicion that the asshole who served me my food at Waffle House had spiked my waffles.
Also, you ever do that thing where you completely spin around in your sleep and end up with your feet on your pillow? I've done it twice, and both times it happened while I dreamed about my kindergarten teacher making Pez dispensers out of living people. That scared the hell out of me. Take my advice for what it's worth: If you ever find a bag of mixed pills under a bridge, do a three-sixty and moonwalk away. There's probably a real good reason why someone left it there.
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