The Soldier and the Squirrel introduces children to the Purple Heart

through a loving story of a friendship between a newly wounded soldier

and Rocky the squirrel with his backyard friends. This story began as a

blog during my first year in bed after my incident. With much

encouragement, it is now a book and has been placed in the

Ronald Reagan Presidential Library & Museum. Please watch the video

on the About page to learn for the Soldier & Rocky are changing children's






Glorious Rejoice Dots Glitter





Subscribe to the Fried Nerves and Jam Podcast!

« Bedside Bride | Main | Breaking Bad & Special K »

When Ketamine Dreams Go Bad

Ketamine hallucinations and dreaming.

It is 2:30am and have googling eyes that rattle in their plastic bulbs.

I cannot shake the night-visions that have so captured me tonight. I was warned they might join me in my slumber. The nightmares and hallucinations will not leave me alone. Like a nagging child pulling on my awareness plotting to be seen.

I close my eyes again. In my dream, I am living in that same house with haggard walls. But now, this home it is a skeleton of wreckage. Sagging walls and carpets slip by as I trudge for traction through the halls. Every stairway leads to nowhere. Every step as I walk in master bedroom implodes within itself like an Alabama soy bean field. The window drapes to the outside can no longer be drawn. They are too tired for such things. So everything I do can be seen; Even as raw and naked as I am. There are no clothes thick enough to cover all that I am. I was almost not allowed in this place that was my home because of this. The only way I am allowed to enter is if I pay for a lottery ticket to win it back. I must win this house back. But I do not want it as it is. It is broken and the rooms make no sense. You enter where the kitchen is. There is no living room. Only places for me to be alone. If I win the house back I must remodel every ounce of it's being as termites have ridden it of its former stability and subtle beauties. It will be up to me to draw and design how it will work for me. For Don. For our family. It is a much smaller home. Because small makes sense. I think how much easier life would be if life were smaller too. More tidy. If only reaching for things was so easy. But in my dream it is possible, but I sweat at the thought of work need for suck a job. The wreckage scares me.
But I sense a magnificence in the bones of this house. I now sense that dreams do not need to be large to be magnificent.
I will try to go back to sleep. More dreams will stir. As will my mind as to how life-altering these magnificent moments of ketamine hangover clarity can be. Goodnight sweet world. For now. For now, I must go build a home.

PrintView Printer Friendly Version

EmailEmail Article to Friend

Reader Comments

There are no comments for this journal entry. To create a new comment, use the form below.

PostPost a New Comment

Enter your information below to add a new comment.

My response is on my own website »
Author Email (optional):
Author URL (optional):
Some HTML allowed: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <code> <em> <i> <strike> <strong>