I woke up early on a day off today and I’m going to go buy some plants. I want to be living in a jungle. Indoor plants reduce stress and anxiety levels and boost your mood so I’m basically trying to drown in them.
For years now I’ve had weird dreams and I wake up between 3-6am drenched in sweat, with a person shaped imprint on the bed like a crime scene of bad dreams.
Sometimes I’ll wake up a few times and have to go get towels, create a new bed, go back to sleep and wake up to do it all over again in a couple of hours. It’s exhausting and I’m always yawning. Does this happen to other people? How do you cope?
I thought I was tired when I was in high school and I really had no idea. If I could go back and see my younger self sitting wide awake on my phone in bed, thinking about things that are so insignificant I can’t even summon them up in my head anymore, I would reach up and slap the living bejeesus out of her. I miss having that luxury.
And I miss bunk beds. The conversations you would have in bed at night when you can’t see each other turn existential real fast. Some of the best conversations I’ve ever had took place in bunk beds.
Anyway I think the reason I find it so hard to fall asleep and stay asleep is these dreams.
I’m afraid each night I’m going to wake up the next morning knee deep in PTSD like well, that’s it, that was the one that’s finally sent me over the edge.
It’s traumatic to wake up from some weird, vivid, sinister place into your quiet bedroom. I feel like I don’t even get a rest either, like I’m awake somewhere else even when I’m sleeping.
That part in Inception where they say you can’t necessarily dream up something new, it comes from places in your memories… Is that true?
That stuck in my head and I always end up looking around for things I know and seeing a grotesque remix of places I’ve been and people I don’t know well enough to dream about. It’s like watching a movie of your memories but they’ve been cut up and stitched together all wrong.
Just like everybody else I’m sure, sometimes my own head isn’t the nicest place to be and it’s unnerving to think that I’m just giving myself over to it at night.
And it feels lonely trying to explain it to somebody else and I worry that talking about it will make it worse. For the most part I just want to forget about it.
I met someone once who told me there was a ghost in her house but it gets worse if she talks about it so she doesn’t. Technically her friend told me and she refused to elaborate. Jesus Christ, how exciting. I hope she’s OK wherever she may be.