Last week I watched a really good documentary on dreams. And since then I’ve been very aware of my dreams, noticing when the good dreams come, noticing when the nightmares come.
Joe was out yesterday evening, and I woke up when he got home. (Sorry, honey, I didn’t realize you were sleeping. Really? What do you think I do when it’s late, and dark in the room and my eyes are closed?) I was in a lot of pain, but couldn’t find the energy to get up even long enough to take a pain pill, and I eventually managed to drift back off again.
I had the worst nightmares after that–a child was kidnapped and attacked, and I rescued her and was helping her mother help the child start to feel comfortable again. I figured out who her kidnapper was, and was after him. And when he realized that I knew his identity, he was after me. He followed me to Target (it was a snowy New Year’s Eve), and attacked me in the parking lot. Fortunately the police were on-site immediately, and he was arrested. I was afraid to go to my house, and for some reason all of a sudden Izzy was with me, so the police were going to put us up in a hotel overnight. I remember being worried about my dogs, neither of whom were my dogs in real life, but the police insisted it would not be safe for me to go home that night. We got to the hotel and went into the room, only to find a kidnapping and murder in progress. I begged the police to put us up in a different hotel, but they said it had to be that one.
And that’s when I woke up, panting, in pain, and hungry. So I got a yogurt, took a pain pill, and am waiting for it to kick in and let me go back to sleep. And I could do without the nightmares, okay?