Childhood Dreams and Missing Hands

This is an email I sent to a researcher who does work with the human brain. 

8^th January 2018

In my case the sleeping disorder appears connected to an inability to alter my situation. This is supported by childhood dreams of having my hands removed and some of my artwork where the hands are missing. I appear to be unable to sleep because of a subconscious need to address the problem and an inability to do so.  There were times I exhibited walking behaviors where I wandered around the house, sometimes with my eyes closed, with no apparent goal or destination. This could have been a survival tool for early humans. If the problem were environmental then it could be something that could be walked away from. A human in the natural state may have needed to wander looking for food or water, conserve energy because of scarcity, and would have rested only when finding safe and satisfying ground.

It should be noted that in times of plenty, say I’m getting a lot of overtime and making a lot of money, I tend to sleep and lose weight rapidly.

It needs to be noted in my case that I exhibit signs of a swollen Amygdala. I experience strong feelings of anger if my heart beats to fast, and I practice breathing techniques to control this problem.  

Lend Me Not

9^th June 2015

Dear Cassi,

I think I’ve told you of the fellow Turtle Nose called Mr. Potato Head, and now that I think of it it’s just easier to call this fellow Spud. In middle school Spud had been my longest standing friend. I’d known him at least from second grade on making it then six years by the end of middle school.

I had known a few folks longer but had little relation with them. It did take me a few years to remember this fellow’s name, but then I had little ability to remember names and faces back then. My life was a burning blur of pain with little substance.

Now Spud was an irresponsible fellow who was always borrowing money. Then one day I told him no. It had been little more than a dollar a day, or something there about, but when it came clear that he would just never pay me back I was done lending. He was furious.

He insulted me, he heckled me, he complained to his friends. It made no difference to me as I was sick of him owing and never paying. We figured some time that by my freshman year in high school the fellow owed me about two thousand dollars. He never paid and frankly never stopped asking for something.

I think he was the first of the dead beats I had to remove from my life. I haven’t spoken to this fellow in fifteen years. Well, good riddance.

Take out the trash, little sister,

        

Richard Leland Neal

The Old Tree House

3^rd June 2015

Dear Cassi,

There was some other feature of my home that I have long forgotten and so forgotten to mention. When I was young I had a tree house. Rather I had a wood shack suspended above a fig tree on stilts. It over looked the pool that blew up but after the pool died shortly went the tree house.

We used to dive out of that tree house into the pool but with the pool gone and the children ageing, what use was the old bit of poorly cared for wood? The thing was in poor repair and I have no doubt that it would have become dangerous had it stood much longer.

That that is my young life personified in that old wood hut with a two part door up on stilts. It was splintered and broken, falling apart and unsafe, and went so long unloved. That’s my life and now I too and broken. The only thing is that I have to put myself back together.

Keep it together, little sister,

Richard Leland Neal