[My sleep has been] shitty as fuck for a long time. Three to four hours [per night] at my worst.

And then, if I'm like, perfect, it's like six-and-a-half, seven hours, but it hasn’t been like that since I was a kid. I've been a spazzy sleeper my whole life.

[I’ve been having] tripped-out dreams [recently]. I probably watch too many horror movies and they're kind of like fragmented, nostalgic travel dreams mixed with epic mysteries or murder things. Lots of junk locations and people that I've known and people that my subconscious has created, but they still seem nostalgic. It’s always multiple locations and places you've been to but different, you know what I mean? People that you feel like you know, then when you really think about it, you're, like... wait. They're like friends, but then when you actually think about that person, you're, “Nah, I've never met that person in my life.” My brain actually created that. I don't think they're movie stars. I think it's literally something random that you've seen and your brain's just like, caught on that, you know what I mean?

When I was a kid, I could lucid dream. I had a lot, a lot of recurring dreams that weren't completely nightmares, but they were kind of fucked up. Then I've had really bad nightmares coming up. And now, they're not really bad, they're kind of just like, weird, and very epic. If I have nightmares now, I'll take edibles and THC to drown them out. ‘Cause my sleep's fucked up anyways, so I don't want to be dealing with it. If I start having reoccurring nightmares, I will dull myself out to not dream. And then I kind of like, dip the toe in, you know what I mean? [They’re] just so fucking dark and fucked up that they're in my head. I don't really have those anymore.

I used to ride trains when I was a teenager and in my early twenties and shit. Before 9/11 it was a lot easier. We would go to Mexico and shit. It was easier to cross the borders. I don't know, we were just fuckin’ around, you know what I mean? Not that I miss those times, but I think [my dreams feature] a lot of geographical and memories from that [time].

[I see] a lot of freight train stuff [in my dreams] and shitty places in America. There's a lot of ones where I'm living at some random friend’s parents’ house, but they're going through a divorce and it's this great house, but every time you go there they're fighting, or the place is completely changed, and then there's all of us drunk train rider people in there getting wasted in this space that we're not supposed to be in. Or weird places that I wouldn't normally be at. And it's always like, random fucking shitholes in America or something. Or rural Canada. And then it's shit that I haven't done in 20-something years. And I'm like, “Oh fuck, I'm back here.” And then I'm doing this testing, like, where am I at if I'm back? Am I comfortable with this? Or is this a shit show? You know what I mean?

This [dream] I had the other day was in this fucked up motel and I'm assuming I was on the road or something because now I won't stay at a place so gross. It was in the middle of a random place in America. The room is nice enough but then the bathroom—there's no shower and it's just this tub and it's too gross to lay in. I'm like staring at it and then I'm trying to be, like, “maybe I could wash it.” And then it's just like starts decomposing. Not like blood or gore, but just like a fast-time decomposition, turning into black mould. And then the water is getting all fucking gross and I'm just like “Oh, god damn!” You know I mean? I don't know why that fucking weirded me out so bad, but yeah, it was fucking weird. And the room was like those scuzzy rooms in like the early 2000s or 90s. Like in Yakima, Washington, or some bullshit. Just small American town.

They're definitely travel dreams. But I don't have, like, cool, like, international vacation ones. It's always shitholes. The tub was the part that visually [stayed] with me, because otherwise it was just me being confused about why I was in that hotel room and where the fuck I was. It was that tub. I was like, “Oh, yeah, that was fucked up,” you know what I mean? It's like watching a movie. It's from my [point of] view. I'm in my head looking out, but it's definitely like a movie. It’s a scene unfolding.

I don't really know. It's just me trying to process my past, I guess, right? And when I was a kid, it was like me trying to process the present. Now it seems like they're more about me trying to process the past more. I don't dream about Moss Park. Very rarely do I dream about my son, unless it's a certain anxiety dream where I'm trying to get to him and the bus keeps changing or [something], you know what I mean? But that's more when he was a little baby. When he was first born, I used to have a lot of anxiety dreams about him. But I think I was just anxious and tripping, you know what I mean? Now that, now that I'm more in the groove and shit, I never barely dream about him ever. Isn't that weird?

I don't dream about my current life, which is fucking interesting. It's all past stuff. I'm not stuck in nostalgia. I don't miss those times. I'm not stuck on that. I keep [those experiences] kind of tucked away, 'cause it was a really long time ago anyways.

It sucks because I used to remember [my dreams] so well, and now it's pretty dicey. It has to be a very specific thing that'll make me remember it or I have to force myself to really go through it in the morning. Maybe it has something to do with how scattered my mind is and just like how fragmented the dreams are. They're all kind of anxious dreams. That might have something to with it, you know what I mean? It's never a cool dream hanging out in the backyard, like watching the clouds. So, I think it's symptoms of my anxiety and PTSD coming out. Maybe, I don't know.