In a Zombie State of Mind

I don't know why this is happening to me. I quit smoking reefer a long time ago. It has nothing to do with the colonel, either. I can't explain it but sometimes I feel that I have contracted an Amazon disease that turns you  into a pygmy. The only problem is that I am not getting shorter. I like how tall I stand. I am five foot, eleven inches, the standard height of a male as quoted by the American Medical Association. I am not too tall and I am not too short. It has absolutely nothing to do with PTSD and I honestly don't know why I think it is important enough to put in my article. That is my point. The colonel has changed my life, forever. My thinking is predicated on my fears of my life in the midnight hours. If weed was legal I would be afraid to smoke it. I do not need cannabis to have freaky dreams. When I was a small child I would walk in my sleep. To prove that my midnight hours have not altered that much my wife says I talk in my sleep to this day. For some reason that bewilders me I have a very active midnight hour life. Maybe I was predisposed to nocturnal behaviors. My sub-conscious mind has a wonderful opportunity at creating or what ever it does while I am asleep. I do not know until I am pulled into another dimension by the colonel. That is when the shit hits the fan, excuse my french. I believe that the colonel is not the first one that I've had contact with on the other side. Maybe he was aware of that fact and is the reason that he chose me to carry out his plan. I'm afraid he needs me, once again. If not, why all the bother? I am beginning to think that he has not completely crossed over and is stuck between dimensions. I may be the only one that can complete the task since I started it.
  For some of you this may be too much to comprehend. Every thing is possible through these eyes. I have been dealing with more than most. Is what I write true? It is to me. Things happen that I cannot understand. My mental health has been an issue with me for a long time. Sometimes I think it all could be a bad dream. I've had those, too. I know what mental pain is all about. It is not much different than my physical pain. After several failed attempts at spinal fusion I am now, and have been for over a year, in pain management. I have an epidural every other month and they are only now starting to give me relief. Like my PTSD, things happen. I lost my medicaid on June 30th. My wife, who suffers from fibromyalgia, just received her disability and I lose my medicaid because we make $80 dollars over the limit. They do not let me count the $325 dollars that comes out of my check for child support. I make $261 dollars per month. I have talked with so many people about some help to no avail. I am going to have to come up with $180 dollars to get my caudal epidural. My luck, just when those shots started working. So, I am pulling my head out of the sand and asking for donations to keep my shots from being stopped. I'm going to keep on writing and telling you about my dreams. If you can help, please do. if not, please keep reading. Thanks for listening.    
                theblogmeister