Good dreams and bad dreams …..

I don’t dream anymore.

I am not sure why not, I just don’t.  {it could have something to do with the excessive use of medication at bedtime – I have a script before you report me to the medication police}

I sleep like I am in a coma, but I wake up feeling bright eyed and bushy tailed in the morning, so I feel it is a fair enough compromise on being a rabid eyed insomniac or being the sleeping beauty that awakes from her refreshing slumbers.

The last three nights I have had dreams that leave me exhausted and disturbed in the morning.

I am not sure if this is unique to me, or something that regularly occurs to other people, but I often “struggle” to keep my dreams in check, and I often go through the day with the same emotion that I was confronted with in my dreams.

Whether that be abandonment, fear, blind terror, or arguing with someone that their patterned curtains,really did not match the patterned duvet and the rather differently patterned wall paper.

This would have all been irrelevant if it was not the room that I had to live in for the next 5 years.  And the patterns weren’t all bad 1970’s patterns.

And I could get through the door.  I had to climb out through the burglar bars to get out of “my room.”

The dream was actually about the fact that Kennith had left me.

I recall having to ride on a bicycle, really far.

Here is a tip: if you ever see my riding on a bicycle assume I have suffered some sort of emotional or mental breakdown.  The chances of me on a bike are so remote, that it would need to be connected to me, bad patterns and climbing through burglar bars to make it vaguely a chance.

I woke up this morning and was surprised to find Kennith there.  He had left me in my dream.  It was quite realistic and specific.

The rest of the day was just this strange amalgamation of strange thoughts and emotions.  I kept finding myself wondering where my bike was and how I was going to live in the room with the bad patterns.

And why Kennith had decided to leave me.  And why I was riding a bike.  Could I no longer afford diesel?

I have decided that dreaming is something I can do without.

Blank. Dead. Sleep. Is far more my speed.

As was the case in my dream.

a-bad-dream

Image source:  http://www.stefanobonazzi.it/a-bad-dream/

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