The Brain Dump, Where does it come from?

It’s been happening again, what can only be referred to as a Brain Dump. Every once in a while, my head feels like what happens to a computer, right when there is a blue screen and it begins a crash dump.
Hopefully at this point your disk drive doesn’t fry aswell. On occasions it has, that is NOT a metaphor. It has actually happened. Note to self, I may need some new technology.

Meanwhile, for those who are blissfully unaware, the brain dump wakes you up, but not quite. So you feel that you are sleeping, but you are actually aware of your surroundings.

It starts to dispose of random things in your head, clearing out what may, or may not be rubbish and you are not in control of what it may select. At times, I have found it rather disturbing, since you never know when it is coming your way, how long it may last and sometimes, there will be a real gem in there, which afterwards will be gone forever. You see, you are not awake enough to write it down, or record your thought in any way, it remains totally illogical, a collection of random thoughts which go through your head and upon fully waking you cannot recall most of it.

I noticed previously, that it used to happen most on a Saturday morning, when I did not have to rise early for work, and arrived usually in the early hours after a particularly stressful week. At times, it has given me the freedom from upset, a release from a distressing situation, which up to that point my have been ruling me. Other times, it can be memories from the past, which have returned to haunt or delight. I usually feel refreshed after this happens, but I cannot help but wonder how many people get it. In conversation with a lady who is a counsellor a while ago, she told me it might be my way getting rid of things which I cannot cope with. I rather think that it is a coping mechanism, but it has only manifested in the last couple of years.

Since last week was a prolific time for my writing things, I am hopeful that what spurred me on to write, was not short-lived and so must not allow my fears to conquer me. Tomorrow is another week and with it, brings new thoughts, experiences and excitement.

So, where does it come from? Answers, on a postcard, email, or comment. I’d love to be enlightened.

Unemployment or Sickness?

At the moment the time is mine,
To go each fortnight, wait and sign.
Your name is called from where you sit,
As needs must on benefit.

Your job search progress is dissected,
To see if income will be affected.
Since you are here, you must be fine.
Now in the unemployment line.
But actually you’re in the thick,
Since they decided you’re not sick.
Although you live quiet as a mouse,
Quite often unable to leave the house.

They ask if your circumstances have changed
Yes, you think you’ve become deranged!
by removing all of the help you could get,
guidelines and criteria, that until now you’d met.
You’re not yourself, your nerves are shot.
And into such a state you’ve got.
Out of place, here you’ve been sent
When around you, angry ones will vent.
Your safety concern, cause for alarm.
They’ve certainly lost all their charm!
Some people there just couldn’t care less,
That you have lost your sense of purpose.
Don’t look your best it’s frowned upon,
Like something special, your time is gone!

So as you continue to persevere,
Make sure you’ve no need to come here.
You’ve hit rock bottom, with no funds to pay
Attending here you continue to pray.
That some one will offer, a job they’ll give
To enable you once again to live.
A sense of satisfaction they’ll say,
When you go to work to start your day.
Just hope that that now once you’ve met,
Can’t see through what you try to forget.

You cope with demands come what may,
During the next part of your life you play.
So get back to work, ready or not,
Time looking through the next lot,
Of jobs you would never choose to do
If what had been coming, then you knew.
Don’t fit in.  Previously were decadent,
Now on for better things you’re meant.
They had you cheap, by then you’d started,
Took months before with them, you parted.
They say you learn from your mistake,
But experience is something you take
With you everywhere that you go,
When work is there, but wages are low.

Almost a Biker

I once had a motorbike,
Painted in the colours I like.
Bright paintwork in yellow and black,
Better for road than for track.
A custom bike with plenty of chrome,
Visions I had of going to roam.
Out on the open road once more,
A beautiful thing with a throaty roar!
I got all the kit and dressed in the leather,
Protected from every kind of weather.
Wearing all of the outfit he loves,
Jacket, Boots, Helmet and Gloves.
Blood racing through me thudding my chest,
Excitement builds I’ll be joining the rest.
On Saturday mornings, coffee en-route
Someone you know, give them a toot.
Bike training then was even a pleasure,
Into the country, moments to treasure.
Taking in the air as you go by,
Feeling as though being able to fly.
Out on the road from my worries I’d hide,
Forget them all as you begin to ride
For a time so easy to be,
Someone else who’s so carefree.
Once I’d got my ticket you know,
I sat on the bike ready to go.
I started up and the throttle jammed,
Into a wall on the bike I slammed.
I’d hurt myself and damaged by back.
And from the experience I would lack.
Suddenly my dreams as a biker no more,
As I was pinned upon the floor.
Couldn’t get from under the bike you see,
Was trapped just too darn heavy for me.
Rescued by a helpful friend,
For the bike and I, the end.
6 months of pain and physio,
Off to the doctor I had to go.
The bike was stored, then fixed and sent,
For someone new it was now meant.
My injuries healed, they did not last,
But having a bike’s all in my past.