A letter to my subconscious

Dearest Subconscious,

I love you. I do. You make sure my body does all the things I need to stay alive so my conscious mind can worry about more important things (like working at my jobs or writing blogs or watching reruns of King of Queens).

That Doug’s a character

I appreciate everything you do, Subconscious, but we haven’t spoken in a while, so I’m taking the time to write you this letter. Here’s the important bit:

PLEASE STOP MAKING ME FEEL LIKE I’M SLACKING OFF DURING MY DREAMS.

Seriously, dude, you’re better than that

I’m sorry for the CAPS, but I want you to realize just what you’re doing to me.

The other night, I got to bed at a reasonable hour, thinking “Yeah, sleep! And I’ll wake up and be ready to hear Pastor sunday morning, it’ll be awesome cause I’ll be all refreshed and stuff!”

But you had other plans, didn’t you, Subconscious? Your plans couldn’t be cool, like dreams of taking Emma Watson out for a classy steak dinner, or another one of those dreams where I can fly as long as I’m sitting on a frying pan (that one was surprisingly awesome, I’d love that one again), or that one where I’m Batman and I’m fighting polar bears and Stormtroopers in my Grandma’s backyard. All of these are acceptable, even welcome, additions to a good night’s sleep.

This was the first picture Google gave me when I searched
for “stormtrooper polar bear”; just go with it

But you know what isn’t a welcome addition? Dreams where, due to Dream Logic, I think I’m not getting my work done. Work, Subconscious, that I don’t actually have to do any more. For example:

Dreams where I’m in math class, in my underwear, and I didn’t do my homework, or where I sell people tickets to a movie, then leave work before setting the movie up, so those poor ticket-buyers are sitting in the theater wondering what’s going on.

You couldn’t just make me feel like a slacker, Subconscious, you had to go and make me feel like a d**kwad, too? What the crap, guy?

My questioning feelings are summed up by
what you’re thinking when you see this picture

I’m sorry if this letter offends you: I realize you’re only doing your job most of the time. But… well, c’mon, man, we’re a team. And we’re free of all those crappy worries that plagued us for years! Sure, we’ve got new ones, but sleepy-time is a time to relax. And you know what’s great for relaxing?

I’m sure she’s a wonderful conversationalist

Other than the contents that make up most of the body of this letter, you’re doing a great job, and I mean that. Your position is secure: you’ve been doing stellar work for 24 years, and I have no doubt you’ll continue for the rest of my three-score-and-ten. But waking up tired and guilty really sucks.

Very sincerely yours,

-T

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