Catalina's Milky Way Dreams(c) Re- Written 2024 - By The Depressed Poet, Doc Dalton
Shooting Stars and fast moving CarsRumble through the roads of my mindTick-e-ty Tock, the old sounds of the clockSay's it's almost a quarter past nine
The moons surely rising, the stars are a glidingAnd Mr. Sandman is ready to roamHurry off to bed and put your pillow under your headHe might just be visiting you tonight at homeDrifting off to sleep is such a wonderful featAdventures you'll enjoy on your ownMaking new friends on a journey to no endA secrete life that is yours all aloneDon't be afraid of those gobble lee goo'sOr those pirates drifting to sea on their boatsThere's no need to worry there just in your dreamsLike rainbow clouds and cotton candy floatsOh that sky's full of colors of make believe wondersExciting every step of the wayCan't you let me stay for just a little bit longerPlease, don't take my Dreams a wayTo see this through a child's eyesOn the path to where stars brightly beamThrough a different world of twist and twirlsWon't you come to my Milky Way DreamsWe could have so much funUnder an ice cream sun and laugh our time awaySing some M & M songs the whole day longUntil we awake to brand new day
Pluto say's hey kiddo don't get out of bedAs Snakel Puss laughs and says, ah it's OKKKKKKKKPopeye yell's, were gone in a minute after I eat me spinachPoo say's all aboard my Banana Split SleighOh that Sky's full of colors of make believe wondersExciting every step of the wayCan't you let me stay for just a little bit longerWorry not Catalina, we won't take your Dreams a way
To see this through a child's eyesOn the path to where stars brightly beamThrough a different world of twist and twirlsWon't you come to my Milky Way Dreams
Catalina say's, please come join me, on my Milky Way Dreams
People think depression is just being sad.
No. Depression is arguing with a sock for twenty minutes because you're convinced it looked at you in a disrespectful way. Anxiety is leaving the house, locking the door, walking ten feet, then going back to check if you locked the door even though you literally just watched yourself lock that door. And delusions? Delusions are a whole different level of entertainment.
My brain runs a 24-hour reality show nobody asked for. The medications don't help much either. One pill makes me feel like Superman. Another pill makes me feel like mashed potatoes with a side of mental chaos. Yesterday I took my nighttime meds and slept so hard I'm pretty sure I briefly died around 2:15 in the morning. Then there are the hallucinations. Now, I try to handle them professionally. Meaning, I panic quietly.
The other morning, I made myself a beautiful cup of coffee. Perfect coffee. That special cup of coffee you would kill for.The kind of coffee that makes you think maybe life isn't completely terrible after all. So, I'm carrying this magnificent cup of coffee carefully to my favorite chair when suddenly, I trip over the dam cat.
Coffee launches across the room. I hit the wall. The chair almost flips over.I'm yelling. The whole house sounds like a Pro Wrestling event. My wife comes running in. Honey! What happened? and I say, I TRIPPED OVER THE FREAKIN CAT. She stares at me for a full five seconds like she's reconsidering every decision she's ever made. Then she says: "Hey dumbass… we don't own a cat."
Now I'm standing there covered in coffee smelling like a coffee farm in Bolivia trying to process that information when suddenly I hear barking. I slowly turn toward the hallway. But there's no dog either. At this point I'm starting to realize my house may be haunted by imaginary pets. I look back at my wife and say: "You hear that dog? She says: No… but apparently you owe the invisible cat an apology."
Then she walks me to my chair like a tired zoo keeper dealing with an emotionally unstable gorilla. "Sit down," she says. "Relax." "Everything's okay."
And honestly? That woman deserves a medal, a vacation, and partial ownership of my medications. At that moment I look over at my wife and yell, watch out. Startled, she looks back and says, what? That's when I look back at her with all the love I could muster up, smile and say, be careful, you almost stepped in some cat shit.
No. Depression is arguing with a sock for twenty minutes because you're convinced it looked at you in a disrespectful way. Anxiety is leaving the house, locking the door, walking ten feet, then going back to check if you locked the door even though you literally just watched yourself lock that door. And delusions? Delusions are a whole different level of entertainment.
My brain runs a 24-hour reality show nobody asked for. The medications don't help much either. One pill makes me feel like Superman. Another pill makes me feel like mashed potatoes with a side of mental chaos. Yesterday I took my nighttime meds and slept so hard I'm pretty sure I briefly died around 2:15 in the morning. Then there are the hallucinations. Now, I try to handle them professionally. Meaning, I panic quietly.
The other morning, I made myself a beautiful cup of coffee. Perfect coffee. That special cup of coffee you would kill for.The kind of coffee that makes you think maybe life isn't completely terrible after all. So, I'm carrying this magnificent cup of coffee carefully to my favorite chair when suddenly, I trip over the dam cat.
Coffee launches across the room. I hit the wall. The chair almost flips over.I'm yelling. The whole house sounds like a Pro Wrestling event. My wife comes running in. Honey! What happened? and I say, I TRIPPED OVER THE FREAKIN CAT. She stares at me for a full five seconds like she's reconsidering every decision she's ever made. Then she says: "Hey dumbass… we don't own a cat."
Now I'm standing there covered in coffee smelling like a coffee farm in Bolivia trying to process that information when suddenly I hear barking. I slowly turn toward the hallway. But there's no dog either. At this point I'm starting to realize my house may be haunted by imaginary pets. I look back at my wife and say: "You hear that dog? She says: No… but apparently you owe the invisible cat an apology."
Then she walks me to my chair like a tired zoo keeper dealing with an emotionally unstable gorilla. "Sit down," she says. "Relax." "Everything's okay."
And honestly? That woman deserves a medal, a vacation, and partial ownership of my medications. At that moment I look over at my wife and yell, watch out. Startled, she looks back and says, what? That's when I look back at her with all the love I could muster up, smile and say, be careful, you almost stepped in some cat shit.
