Green recruits get picked on

 

I was in some kind of school situation, and I was clearly not in the ruling class. I was a lowly scrub. I was among those who got beat up, picked on and pushed around for fun, or out of spite, by the upper classmen. 

Among my antagonists were some of my old Bible Study's counselors, such as Chris Knoll and Mario Huante, among others. These were the ruling elite of the cult I was in, back in the '80s. I don't recall any physical abuse having gone on back in those days, at least not to me. But in my dream they were doing a fair amount of pushing, shoving and shaking down for lunch money, like your typical garden variety thugs.

I felt the sting of shame and the burning of outrage as I got shoved up against a wall and had my pockets and backpack searched for valuables. I managed to hang onto my phone, but I think they may have gotten my wallet. I was too pissed at the whole incident to take an accurate inventory. I just felt violated.

I searched around for someone, anyone, who would hear my complaint and take some kind of action. What I got was enough repeated indifference to my requests to formulate the opinion that I was living in a reality with entrenched unfairness and that I should just knuckle under and accept my lowly position. Life sucks, get used to it.

Later on, I was in an assembly in the auditorium. Everyone was sitting at tables and looking in the same general direction toward a wall of windows with a view of the campus. I suppose there was about to be some kind of event, but it never got started.

First, someone noticed a few bits of ash or dust coming from the ceiling vents. Pretty soon everyone was looking around and seeing the particulates as they rained down on us. It became alarming when some live embers were mixed in, along with smoke and a heavy soot. Still nothing was visible from the nice picture windows, but this situation was rapidly developing and would need to be investigated.

Several of us got up and marched out, almost drill-like, to the corner exits. I was among them. I went, first in one line of people, then switched lines at the last minute and went out with a different group. Something told me I needed to be in one group and not the other, though I never found out why.

It turned out to be nothing. Some irresponsible students were burning the shredded paper documents in the library, and it was sending out a smoke plume that was causing the alarming debris to rain down. They were told to put a stop to it, and the investigation was completed. Case closed.

I found myself in a giant bathroom (never a good sign in a dream). I was fumbling around with my school issued uniform and wound up with arms and legs getting all confused as I attempted to disrobe so I could use the urinal. I wound up just putting the uniform back on and never got to pee. It was, however, my cue that the dream was ending, and I got up to pee.

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It was early still, so I tried to get a bit more sleep. Alas, this wasn't to happen. I have a lot of thoughts swirling around in my head at the moment, most of them related to an upcoming appointment I have with the behavioral health psychiatrist. My bottom line is: I ain't happy.

I have many supporting arguments to back this up, but I'm afraid that I won't be able to formulate them into a cohesive statement. I will wind up getting tongue-tied and forgetting my lines, and then the narrative will be hijacked by the shrink, who seems to have his own agenda regarding the (non) dispensing of medication.

I don't really want to take medication. I just wanna feel better. I don't want to do any more research on what dietary supplements will produce more serotonin or dopamine. I can't buy into "the Secret" or any such fairy tale magical views of the universe and its so-called law of attraction. And I feel I'm too far down in the pit that my poor thinking choices have created to dig myself out with simple cognitive therapy tools.

I want an easy answer to the most complicated questions of life, and it doesn't seem to be forthcoming. Why am I here? What's it all about? What do I do? But most importantly to me, how do I feel better? My non-dual, non-philosophy of laissez-faire lethargy isn't cutting it. I need a simple agenda that even a sloth can get on board with.

If my shrink is so all fired anti-antidepressants, then what, if any, cool drugs could he prescribe me? I am guessing Ecstasy or shrooms would be out of the question. Maybe some Quaaludes or Zanax? I dunno, whatever makes you feel good. I'm not as worried about long term damage at this point. I think more damage is being done by my not getting out of this chronic depression.

I had a whole bunch of logical debate points coming up in my mind, but of course when I go to try to write them down, they all evaporate. This is what I was afraid would happen. Now, when he calls, I will be forced to endure another lecture on the evils of big pharma and the benefits of a paleo diet with protein cycling, keto and intermittent fasting. Fuck me!