the dream is not exempt from nightmares

No sleep.

Fucking insomnia.

I guess I have too much going through my head.

Excitement, fear and holy fuck the nightmares every goddam night!

I have the feeling it's because there's no pain meds to block them out.

I had nightmares every night before the accident, but after the accident, I would wake up knowing I had one, I just couldn't remember a lot of them because they had me so wired on pills.

Well, with no drugs to dim the din, the horrors are in full force.

One was that I had to relive all the ICBC crap all over.  In my dream, I said to my lawyer, "I thought you said once this was all done, that was that!"

He replied, "They changed their mind."

Last night was all my musical instruments in the middle of an intersection and people stealing them, but I couldn't get to them because the speeding cars wouldn't let me get there.  Then everyone laughed at my disdain.

Not to mention, every night, I dream I'm in excruciating pain.

However, I do wake up to a lovely sigh of, "Oh god, I feel so much better."

Actually, it's a hell of a lot better than those dreams where you win a gazillion dollars, only to wake up broke and wanting to go back to sleep to relive the dream.

Speaking of psychological torment, I'm not sure what it is that has Papi chasing me around with his LifeLike penis every day.

The Tranny Terrorist is another frightening ordeal.

Mi esposo will intentionally leave that Plastic Penis dangling out of every crevice he can find, poised like a rattler, just waiting to attack it's prey.

I am the prey.

He will wiggle it around with only one intention.

To make me squirm.

I'm surprised my dreams aren't filled with penes like they used to be when I was younger.

Did I ever tell you about the nightmare where there was a glass container, the size and width of a massive wall, filled with penes and balls, floating in blood?

Yeah.

That was a nice one.

That one will forever be burned in my brain.

Hopefully, the vision won't be etched in yours now.

Sorry about that.

Every time I wriggle away, horrified in my P.T.S.D. triggered state, my love will add, "I don't know what you're afraid of!  It's not like it's going to come out and attack you!"

My love, they have before.

He also likes to add, "I don't see how you can enjoy being fucked by a dildo!"

Ok.

Because a dildo is not life like.

It's not even in the same shape or colour of the real thing, not to mention, I get to control it, it's not attached to a predator, and it doesn't have weird stuff coming out of it.

Too much info for ya?

I guess you thought I'd be going on about our big exciting news today.

Well, if you're my long term reader, you should know better than that.

If you're here just visiting, you poor, poor soul.

Welcome to my madness.

i express my needs and feelings

Balls.

Right.

So, I just get a handle on things and there's no more talk about penes in the house while Papi has been not so well, out comes this:

"I just read that someone is growing balls from the transformation."

All I could do was sit and stare at my love, waiting for the punchline.

Then another gem was spoken by mi esposo.

"Is it too much information to share that on Facebook?  That some dudes get balls?"

My love has no TMI filter and has to ask me, then I, who has a filter, writes it here in my blog anyway.

Yeah, like I've said before, Papi and I are perfect for each other.

Mi esposo likes to share TMI on his Facebook status, and I share TMI in an entire blog entry.

There is someone for everyone.

Anyway, back to the balls.

I recall the line in the sand being drawn about a penis in my life, but I never specified about balls.

I really just thought that goes without saying.

No penis really just means no balls either, does it not?  Isn't that kinda like a breast without a nipple?

I contemplated how it was I was going to handle these jewels if I had to deal with them.

I quickly realized there would be no dealing with them.

Nope.

No can do.

I just couldn't imagine little nerds starting to hang from my love's already exaggerated 5 Foot Clitoris.

When I was in the never ending closet, I would have to be pretty drunk to even look at those little buggers.

I thought maybe it was a metaphor for something else?

Maybe it's like the butch cock some dykes talk about having?

Anyway, I still couldn't say very much about the ball situation.  I was still a little wiped out from Hurricane Andréa the day prior.

While I fretted, and had all kinds of imagery in my head about the next level of 'man zone', I was now being faced with having to ask myself how I'm going to deal.  Then I heard it.  Bittersweet words came out of my love's mouth:

"Ah, someone just told me it's a hoax.  People are getting implants and it got out that they grew them on their own."

At first I was elated!

Then the fear set in.

No!!!

Not another fucking surgery for ball implants!!!!

I suppose the look on my face told the story without me having to say anything, because Papi said, "Don't worry, I'm not going to get it.  It's too expensive."

Ok.

'Too expensive' is all right.  'I don't want them', would be better, but I'll settle for 'too expensive'.

I don't see balls in my near future.

That's all that matters.

pain is weakness leaving