Actually Going Crazy

Certain things let you know when you're starting to go crazy. Nightmares, for one-especially when involving work, self-defense killing, and your dead grandmother-bot malfunctioning.
Last night was the worst. I took a sleeping aid so that I wouldn't wake up in the middle of the night unable to go back to sleep. Instead I woke up kicking, hot, sweaty and delirious from what can only be described as being stuck in a robot's feedback loop. I was dreaming of work.

"Don't forget to apply the late fee, and the lunch fee. Did you pay by credit card or check? We already received your registration, but let me look in the database again to make sure your invoice was correct. It looks like you paid, but you may have forgotten to apply the late fee, and the lunch fee."

Then I had another dream where some scary man was trying to kill me and some friends with a really sharp razor. He made me put it in my hand so that while he was cutting up my friends I would watch and theoretically cut myself because I'd clench my fist. I managed to attack him and tried to cut his throat and he fell down. Then it looked like he was down for the count, so I yelled for folks to call an ambulance. We were going to help him, but I could tell that he was faking and was going to attack us again, so I called my friends to hold him down because I was going to be forced to finish the job. When my friends got there to hold him down he threw them against the wall, but I managed to finally make a cut. It was really disturbing and had to be deliberate so it was in slow motion.

The last part of my dream was that I saw my Grandma. She looked really pretty and maybe in her 80's and had bright lipstick on like that last time she visited me in my dreams. I was happy to see her so I touched her hand, but then she opened her mouth to speak to me and out came some freaky noise that sounded like static or rowdy background music and a man's voice. I thought, "Oh no! She must be a grandma-bot and now she's malfunctioning," but then I woke up. Turns out it was the alarm clock radio.

Now I'm at work - contemplating how it will go when I ask my new apartment managers for 4 days' refund of rent because they didn't clean the carpets and being overwhelmed by requests from coworkers, a broken copy machine, and the leftover grog from the Tylenol PM. I'm definitely not going to complicate this with caffeine, but I hope I wake up soon.