What happens when you sleep? I will tell you at 68, with severe sleep apnea and chronic PTSD without meds for help. The wife is in the living room watching the new documentary on Ben Franklin. After 50 minutes of it, I decided to go to bed. My Service-connected disability is for the two years I spent serving our people and nation at the end of the Vietnam War. I went to South Korea because the war ended in the summer of 1972. I had to turn in my summer clothes for those of an older, colder, war-torn land war still simmering on the border between The North and the South. A civil war, one could say. I never fired a single shot at anyone, but I was in constant emotional terminal and feared for the lives of my fellow human beings on all sides. I had even started a John Wayne-type bar fight in the village between everyone. Somehow, I got out. The town got shut down for a while. I had spent eye-to-eye combat with the only poisonous snake in South Korea when one crawled over my radio backpack inches from my face as I lay down to rest. I flew from South Korea to Osaka, Japan, in a Two-setter fighter jet on my way home for compassionate reassignment. I caught a ride on a C-141 with the last combat vets leaving Nam to Seattle Tacoma airport. I had excelled on the division’s pistol team, and, at the last minute, I left the chance to compete in Veit Nam for the 4th US Army pistol terminate. I spent several days getting sorted out at the Main hospital in Seoul. They never did find out what was wrong with me. I got lost in the back of an army field ambulance when My feet were frozen for five hours while the driver tried to find the field hospital used for the Movie Mash, with which Donald Sutherland starred. I used drugs and had my way with about 500, giving or taking the local punting. I had started marking them off on my calendar from the first day there. When I did not go to Veit Nam, I was informed I was going to the army’s best-kept secret. For five dollars, I could get laid, get drunk, and still have two fifty dollars cents left in my pocket the next morning. Life was good. But I was not happy. The world seemed insane. I went to bed and put on my sleep apnea machine. Which I do every night to keep down the nightmares. I would be dead in a week without it now. I used cannabis for 40 years to do these nightmares for me. Then I got hooked on the machine. Like all drugs, it is losing its power. What will I do? I closed my eyes and was gone, only to walk into our kitchen in an old farmhouse to see my wife Cut off the heads of children, clean them, and put them in a soup pot. I walked past her to return to bed in this vivid dream I had become used to, only to fall onto an 18-inch pin-like steel knife. I grabbed it, held my body up in mid-air, and rolled off it. Then someone ran their body across the foot of my bed over both legs. I let it go. Then, someone was in bed beside me, taking up all the extra space. I rolled over the other way. I decided to take a piss and looked at the clock. Only ten minutes had gone by. It was going to be another long night. How would it end? How will it end? Last night, I watched reruns of hundreds of movies about my life that I had never even made or knew were made. On and on, I watched even after piss breaks. But there I was as a child, a boy, a preteen, and up. I think more happens in the dream world than in the reality of life. So, I finally went to the VA to talk about nightmare meds. How will it go? Will I agree or start smoking cannabis again? My dreams are becoming more real than life. Was it the head injury I had in advanced Infantry training that went unreported? I was out for five hours. The VA is a strange organization. Maybe all medicine is? After all, they are made up like everything else in this world. Every night, I go on a long field trip. Rarely sexual, but sometimes. I never met people I now know. At best, people from my past. Is the world a delusion? is anything real? Lately, my dreams have become more intense and downright violent. It’s like an LSD 25 trip without the downers to snap me out of it if needed. This is between you and me. I went back to sleep and dreamed about the mafia. It was long and detailed but a comedy/ Ten. I went to the restroom and settled back into bed to have a series of short, detailed lessons about the mend and its connection to the body and sex. I was troubled by the women were being raped by the Russian soldiers attacking Uncraine. I was reminded that sex and sex drive are like music and the scales that it is played through. All dynamics are covered within the scales of all possibilities of sexual encounters. More details later on this troubling subject.