2:45 AM

I'm Italian, so I get weirded out easily. Like I tend to look at the clock a lot when it hits 11:11 and 9:11 and think there is some strange significance to it. Maybe it's ingrained in me to make note when it happens and it actually happens no more often than when I look at the clock and it is 10:24. But it feels like it does. Who knows.

Yesterday, a friend of mine sent me a link about one of my favorite musical artists ever, Elliott Smith. It was pretty sad to read the guy that the article is about lament the fact that he never got a chance to talk to Elliott because he would really want to tell Elliott that "it's going to be OK". Xteen echoed that this would be something that she would want to say too. I think everyone who knew Elliott through his music would want to say that.

I took Elliott's death terribly hard because of the immense respect I had for him as a songwriter and as a really humble person. Hearing someone talk in depth about the interpretations of his music was quite melancholy. When I met him, he was painfully shy...really hating the people who pushed up to him and pulled him away. It was only when I sheepishly approached him that I felt like I was different from the people who just wanted a piece of him. I asked if it would be OK for him to sign a poster and he asked what my name was so he could personalize it. I thanked him for playing one of my favorite songs that night and he barely knew what to say. And when I asked for one last favor, a picture with him, his frail voice said "OK" and I managed to get a little smile out of him. I thanked him and went on my way.

So last night, I'm watching a horrible Red Sox game and a fantastic hockey game all while to unsuccessfully stay awake to watch Neko Case on Letterman. I crash on the couch around 11 and wake up, still in work clothes around 1:30.

Zombie-like, I stumble into the bedroom, get out of the work clothes and collapse on the bed. I know this isn't going to be good.

This isn't going to be good, because I have some sort of sleeping disorder. In addition to having untreated sleep apnea (I am NOT wearing one of those Frank Booth masks...I tried, believe me), whenever I wake up from a sleep on the couch only to go to bed, I go immediately into the Shiny Happy People stage and start having very wacked out, disturbing dreams. These dreams usually consist of me dreaming that I am asleep and in that sleep, I am also dreaming. I have this weird sensation that I am aware of where I am and it usually feels like I am in whatever room I am actually asleep in. Sort of a waking dream. In this dream within a dream, I know that I am sleeping and am desperately trying to wake up for some reason. I am holding my breath, terrified, silently screaming for Xteen to wake me up. I have to "wake up" in my dreams before I wake up in "real life". I know this doesn't make any sense, but it happens a lot when I am asleep before going to bed and it really fucks me up. What's worse is that it happens with such regularity in this situation, that I totally psych myself into knowing it's going to be a rough ride as soon as my head hits the pillow.

The dream that bothered me last night had to do with Elliott. I dreamt that we were friends, good friends, but that I knew his fate. I remember being emotionally drained...crying in the dream, trying to save him from what was destined to happen. I remember screaming to Xteen to wake me up, but nothing would come out of my mouth. Finally, I wrestled myself out of sleep's clutch, gasping, sweating, exhaused. I look at the clock and it reads 2:45.

Even in that haze, I made the connection. On Elliott's Either/Or disc, there is a song titled 2:45 AM:

i’m going out sleepwalking
where mute memories start talking
the boss that couldn’t help but hurt you
and the pretty thing he made desert you
i’m going out now like a baby
a naïve unsatisfiable baby
grabbing onto whatever’s around
for the soaring high or the crushing down
with hidden cracks that don’t show
but that constantly just grow
i’m looking for the man that attacked me
while everybody was laughing at me
you beat it in me that part of you
but i’m gonna split us back in two
tired of living in a cloud
if you’re gonna say shit now you’ll do it out loud
it’s 2:45 in the morning
and i’m putting myself on warning
for waking up in an unknown place
with a recollection you’ve half erased
looking for somebody’s arms to
wave away past harms
i’m walking out on center circle
the both of you can just fade to black
i’m walking out on center circle
been pushed away and i’ll never go back

Not sure what this all means. Like I said, I'm Italian. I get weirded out by shit like this. All I know is that I'm really not looking forward to going to sleep tonight.

- Dim.