I’m still half asleep. It takes me a good hour or two to wake up each day. It’s funny really, in some ways. Like when my GP asks about my circulation issues and whether my hands, that are totally dead in the morning, look white. I can’t see colours for at least five minutes AFTER the blood has returned to my extremities, and sometimes it takes up to an hour.
I don’t wake up in the morning and go “what a beautiful day!”
I wake up in the morning, feel like I’ve been hit by a mack truck, and go “what the honest to god fuck has just happened to me?”
While I check for dislocations and bruising and lack of circulation issues, and attend to them, I can’t even get my eyes to open, let alone notice (in a dark room) the finer hues of the human body.
After about five minutes, I gingerly sit up and think about the dreams I have had (eyes usually still shut). My psychologist wants me to write them down, so I try and remember what they were so that I can write them down later, when my eyes are open. Which never happens, because I either forget what the dream was, or I forget to write them down. But today, there are no appointments, no rush to be somewhere or get dressed because someone is coming over. There is just us today. And while less-salient details may escape me, I have noticed a trend amongst my dreams, most of which whacked my brain like a piece of 2×4 traveling at vast speeds last night.
Heights. I’m a little scared of them in real life. In my dreams however, I get severe vertigo from heights and whatever I am standing on gets a lean towards the great falling side, which never has a sturdy railing or anything to stop me from falling. Due to the vertigo I feel I usually find myself stumbling toward the great falling side with no railing despite trying desperately to back away and go somewhere else.
Usually these height dreams are in the open air in a balcony type situation, however sometimes they involve lifts too. Lifts that don’t work properly or have a mind of their own, or suddenly grow into the sky like Jack’s beanstalk.
In any case, falling to my death is a big concern in these types of dreams.
Then we have drowning as a main theme. These dreams are always by the sea and the water incursion is from a tidal wave or high tide. I’ll be in an apartment having a holiday and look to the window and notice the water is coming up the land in a weird way or something and then before I know it, the ocean is halfway up the windows of the apparently fully air-locked room I’m in. Either that, or I start running up a hill and it just keeps getting higher and higher. The other night I had one of these – it was a family affair. We were renting a house near the water’s edge and the water rose enough to lift the house and float it out to sea while we were still in it. We somehow got to shore and started running – long story short, BJ ended up stuck in the mud and the kids each held a hand of mine and I made the decision to leave him there and get them to safety.
And it all happened in full stereo and full colour and full everything. I woke up and mourned the loss of my husband because it was all so fucking REAL.
My water dreams have another kind too, since the floods. Which involves… floods. Usually with me on one side of the water and my kids on the other.
Then we have dream type number three – where I collapse. Usually this means feinting, but while unable to move, I can still hear what is going on and feel people lifting me up etc. Sometimes though, I actually black out in my dream and time passes and then I wake up again. Those are particularly freaky, though not as insightful. Last night, I had a feinting while still aware dream. I collapsed and couldn’t move or talk or anything (though I tried to), and BJ ended up taking me to hospital or something. The details are now escaping me.
Except… I remember the feeling. I remember feeling “thank god”. “Thank god it’s now that bad that I’ve finally gone over the edge and can close my eyes for a while. Thank god I can have a rest. Thank god someone can take care of ME for a bit. Thank. Fucking. God!”
I don’t need a psychologist to analyse my dreams. They’re pretty self-explanatory. The height ones are about lacking control. The water ones have only been happening since the floods, so I’m guessing that I have PTSD of sorts from watching the water come for my house a few times over the last five years (and being in the real life situation of this affecting my kids health and safety – twice now). And the collapsing ones – well, who doesn’t need a break once in a while?
I just wish they didn’t affect me physically as well. Seriously – some days I wake up and I am exhausted from running all night in my dreams. As if life is presenting enough challenges, my brain decides to give me a whole other pretend life that will whack my body as well as the EDS etc… Like I need more stress and pressure and shit. BJ and I have often talked about whether there is a drug available that stops you from having dreams. Thus far, any GP I have talked to about it has just laughed at me. But seriously… my dreams are helping to slowly kill me. I’ve been up for an hour now, and I still feel like I’m recovering from a marathon.
So I guess that covers the intensity part of the title. What about the confusion part? Well – I’m fucking confused about what to do about it all really. How do I fix it? Where do I go from here? Obviously things aren’t right and they haven’t been for a long, long, time. But while I know what one answer is, it’s pretty irresponsible, so I’m trying to find some sort of middle ground, and I just can’t seem to find it… *sigh*
In the meantime – guess I had better have some breakfast. And try to get my hip back in.