Restless Nights

As far as I know, I've never been a particularly peaceful sleeper.  My dad tells stories about how I'd sleepwalk as a kid -- I think he said once that there was an instance where I made it as far as the driveway before they caught me.  He tells of another time he found me going downstairs and when he asked why, I told him I was going to bed. "Bed's that way," he said, pointing up the stairs. I apparently growled and stomped back up.

Not Your Average Blogger tells me I talk in my sleep alot. Or I used to. When we were first married, I'd wake up in the morning and he'd ask me things like, "When did the gumdrop bushes expire?" and I'd think it was a setup for a joke. Then he'd tell me, "no, no, last night you said, 'don't eat the gumdrops off the bushes, those are expired.' When did they expire?"  As time passed, my nattering got more mundane, but no more insightful. A lot of it was mumbling, but he apparently still gets cause to wonder what I'm dreaming about when I flop over and say things like, "No, I really don't think that's a very good idea." 

Work dreams, I bet.

Anyway, I dream a lot, too.  I know, I'm the only one, right? Lovely dreams involving buckets of ice cream. Bizarre dreams, also involving buckets of ice cream. And helicopters.

I don't usually have anxiety dreams.  No finals for classes I've never attended, no teeth falling out. The closest I've ever come is that it's halfway through the semester and I suddenly remember I was supposed to be attending some math course, but I've gotten distracted because things have gotten nuts at my day job.  But I'm not worried about failing the course, I'm just pissed that I've wasted the money.

And then there are nightmares.  La. For as long as I can remember.  The first dream I remember having was a nightmare. It happened in kindergarten. It involved me being on a teeter-totter with my best friend, but when I looked up, she had turned into a skeleton and was skittering up the beam to get me. I'm not sure what was going to happen to me, but I wasn't too interested in finding out.

In grade school, I had a recurring nightmare that witches had set a bonfire in my bedroom and wanted to throw me in it. I lost a lot of sleep in grade school, because I would wake up from those terrified and have to read hundreds of pages of Disney books to make it go away.

The worst one ever? It happened when Thomas was 2 or 3.  I dreamed I was dropping him off at day care. His day care was in the basement of a building 2 blocks from my office. I dreamed that the building collapsed on us, and that when I realized what had happened, we had a building on us, and we were still alive.  And there was absolutely nothing I could do.  That feeling of knowing that my kid is there with me, terrified and confused, and I can barely reach him, I can't save him, I might outlive him, and the only thing I can possibly do is try to hold my breath so he gets more oxygen -- I still get upset when I remember it.  It was so upsetting that NYAB bought me a whistle, like Dumbo's feather, so that when the building falls on me but I'm still alive, I have a fighting chance of letting the rescue teams know someone's still in there.

Well, then there was last night.

Yesterday was a mishmosh of conversations and TV impressions.  A friend and I had long discussions about how people deal with trauma differently, because a third party is going through some pretty traumatic stuff right now.  NYAB and I watched the final episode of My So-Called Life, and all the characters on there had random dreams about X, Y and Z. 

So of course, I dreamed that NYAB and the YP died in a car wreck. 

I wasn't in the wreck, I was at work and someone called to tell me they were gone.  It was bizarre. I don't know if the dream was showing me how I'd deal with trauma, or if it was telling me my priorities are all screwed up, or what, because my reaction to this was, "Uhm? Oh. Well... I need to make this deadline, but then I'll come right over and figure out what to do."  Because, what, they're dead, they aren't going anywhere and my company still has an obligation to clients? I don't know. 

The weird thing about the dream was that I was so incredibly analytical about everything. I finished my work. I cleaned out my desk. I packed up my car. I went to the hospital and yes, it was real, it had really happened. I called my parents. I wrote down all the bank account and bill information.

And then I just sat in my very quiet living room and thought, and thought about what I should do next. Because I had realized that I could do absolutely anything and it wouldn't matter a bit. I could burn my house down, and I wouldn't feel it. I could shoot up heroin, or I could shoot myself in my right hand and never type again, or I could eat several buckets of ice cream, and it wouldn't matter.

Because what had mattered didn't exist anymore, and that meant, for all intents and purposes, that I didn't either.

And then I woke up in a total horrified panic.  Frankly, having a building fall on me was easier.

Of course, I have no idea how I'd really react to such a thing. I refuse to believe such a horrible thing could happen. Believing it's possible makes it more possible, you know? Besides, I've seen NYAB drive, and as far as this family goes, he's NOT the one most likely to die in a car wreck. Based on how I've seen those around me cope with things, I suspect that I would move back to the family farm, buy about a thousand dogs and refuse to deal with people ever again, except one trusted veterinarian.

Urgh.  Maybe I need to start drinking before bed.

 

Comments

[Amanda]

First, while I am sorry that the collapsing building dream upset you so much, he bought you a whistle! Aww. That is so sweet and thoughtful.

Second, Chad talks in his sleep. It's hilarious. Sometimes he says such weird stuff that I can't sleep for a long time because I'm imagining all sorts of dreams where those words might make sense and laughing my butt off.

Last, I've had plenty of panic dreams, but by far the very worst ones have involved my daughter. The others can be shaken off once I wake up, but the emotions of the ones where she is in danger stick with me well into daytime. Part of parenthood, I guess.

[Mel]

Drinking before bed will make it worse :/

Nik talks in his sleep too, and when I can't tell what he said and ask him to repeat himself, he does, louder, but somehow more mumbly.

In the past few years most of my recurring nightmares get recognized and become an adventure story, but I have had a few about getting raped lately that freak me out big time. (I've never been raped, so I dunno what sort of violation I am really anxious about that's causing these dreams)