What Dreams May Come

Battling Bipolar

Dreams are daggers. Or claws. Daggers are too gentle. Yeah, claws are more accurate. They rip and tear at my soul, gashing, slicing, and slaying — and we all know what happens to a brilliant mind when it’s tormented and sleep-deprived.

The re-introduction of Risperidone into my pharmaceutical diet was supposed to help, but it isn’t. Neither is the Lorazopam.