...is for Reality.
I don't exactly have nightmares, but I do have extremely disturbing dreams, nearly always involving considerable swathes of reality, to the extent that I often don't know what has really happened and what was just in my dream.
This makes for a sometimes rather surreal reality.
At other times, my reality is crushingly real and there's no doubt that I'm not in any way dreaming. Sometimes, my reality sucks so much I yearn for an alternative universe where this life is nothing but a bad memory.
In reality, I don't really know what reality is. Or, at least, I don't know any more. I see old, old photos of me and friends from St Andrews, from Salamanca, and they don't seem real at all. Did that time really happen? Yes, it did; you might even add, yes it did, unfortunately, because it didn't end well (does anything in my life ever end well I wonder?).
Téléréalité is precisely that (I hope) - a reality that exists only on the TV. The "Marseillais in Rio" are so brainless, shameless, aggressive, vulgar, overwhelmed with self-importance and ignorant that I cannot believe such people exist elsewhere but on the TV. They're unreal, totally unreal.
Sometimes I wish my reality were different. That I didn't have to take drugs, that I didn't have to live in a mental hospital, that my girls spent at least half their time with me and were nice to Y, that my relationship with Y were more solid, that I weren't so old compared to him...
But reality is what it is. Unfortunately.