Nighttime is the accepted time when decent people get to be in bed gathering their rest for the next days' demands upon them.
Sometimes that idyllic circumstance occurs, most nights, thanks to me, it does not.
Hubby is the long-suffering sort who puts up with me mostly because explaining a murder charge to our Bishop might be a trifle inconvenient.
I have nightmares. Not the garden variety "gee that was unpleasant", roll over and go back to sleep stuff. Oh no. They are heart-pounding, gut twisting, violent and agonizing dreams that leave whomever is nearby absent their sleep.
Sometimes, I wake myself up screaming, talking, yelling in my sleep. I have only vague snatches of what was dreamed but they are, in and of themselves, enough to make my flesh crawl during daylight hours.
Years and years ago, I heard the Disney inspired song "A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes". How tender. How inspiring. How not true...
Who in heaven's name would dream about the crap that destroys the opportunity for people to get a decent night's sleep? Who would want to be terrorized in the night with imagery that Hollywood would be hard pressed to duplicate even with some creepy dude in a hockey mask? Who in their right mind would dream to be scared out of their wits and, additionally, to scare their bed mate half to death as well?
I don't wish for dreams like that. I wish and hope and pray for pleasant dreams. I don't get them all of the time and like the scriptures are fond of reminding me "there must be opposition in all things". I suppose that having horrible nights like last night are some sort of balance for having had several nights of dreaming world travel was within my grasp - pleasing vistas, glorious history and wonderful foods of the world all during the blissful hours between going to bed and hearing the alarm.
Instead, last night was an opportunity for my husband to convince me that I was alright and that what was causing me to scream was not real, not there and not happening.
I hate crap like that. I absolutely hate it. I wake feeling tired because I haven't enjoyed restful sleep, but worse, I wake feeling guilty because I have deprived Rick of HIS sleep in my nocturnal battles against the invisible evil of the imperfect dream world that occupies my thoughts.
I hope tonight is better. Otherwise, I may be compelled to direct the music tomorrow while lying down. I can keep the tempo with one foot raised above the little divider... I'm sure I can...
Meanwhile, the sun is shining and the darkened phantoms of the night are fled. I pray they stay gone... I can only stand so much "opposition" in a 24-hour period.
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