I can't think of anything other than dream doors now, so that's the title even if I hate it

Have ever you looked back onto your life and thought yes, that’s why that happened, now I finally understand, now it all finally makes sense when I thought none of it would ever make sense. Or maybe why something didn’t happen?

Have you ever looked back and found that so many things that never made sense, that you thought would never make sense, finally do?

Maybe not. Maybe you have. I hope you have.

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This sort of thing has been happening to me quite a bit lately. Logic is coming from unlogic, and even that makes a sort of quasi-logic that’s a little frightening.

A lot frightening, actually. But a good fear, which is the best fear, and consequently the only fear you shouldn’t truly fear.

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There are some things I say quite often, but only because they’re important to me and I rest much of my sanity and happiness on them. Dangerous, I know. But I live dangerously. I’m like Fonzi; I only dress in leather and tight jeans and I punch jukeboxes.

Everything happens for a reason. I don’t know when I started believing this, or why—I assume something must have begun the initial belief, but nothing too important if I can’t remember. Anyway, the older I grow—and I’m an old man—the more I believe something I once only just wanted to believe. It makes more and more sense. Everything does happen for a reason. You live like this, you’ll find yourself paying extra attention to everything. It’s rather amazing.

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And dreams. Remember how I never shut up about dreams? Well, if you don’t remember then you should probably reread all my blog entries. I’m sure you’ll find many embarrassing things I wrote about myself, some of which are the consequence of a tad bit too much alcohol—good thing I’m cutting back a lot on that, because of someone.

Dreams. Usually I write about nightmares, because I don’t tend to dream anything other than nightmares, or at least some form of mentally damaging dreams. Not really nightmares…but something. My mind is fucked.

But nightmares or not, I’ve always said how dreams are more important than most people will ever admit or acknowledge. Now, I know I’m crazy for far more reasons than my obsessions with dreams. In fact, my dream obsession seems like one of the sanest parts about myself. Because, lately, dreams have very much directed my life and opened doors that may not have otherwise opened. Dream doors?! No, let’s not go that far. Let’s not be that crazy. Not yet.

Although dream doors does not have a nice ring.

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So that’s it. I feel crazier than ever, but in a good way. I think the people who are crazy but know they’re crazy are the happiest, but then you’re not really crazy at all, since you know you are. You’re just you, and you’re happy, knowing that everything is happening for reasons and that dreams are dreaming and nightmares aren’t always nightmares and that even the dreams have reasons, extremely vital reasons to your waking self and waking life, and yes, all that.