i am not a problem sleeper. i have no problems getting to sleep and staying asleep. actually, i am a problem sleeper if you consider my NEED for sleep as a thorn in my side–i can’t pull all-nighters, and i’m not the kind of writer who can stay up all night writing. bummer.
but last night, i had an awful night of sleep. i couldn’t stop tossing and turning, in this weird nether-world between deep sleep and wide awakeness. everytime i did go to sleep, one of my dogs would walk over me and wake me up. it’s as if my body and mind refused to relax.
i did go into deep sleep, because i do remember dreaming. but of course: i had horrible dreams. i dreamt i was a woman who had to give away her baby and flee the country on a boat. i was without an identity, trying not to give myself away, trying to blend into the masses.
then i dreamt another dream in which i was planning a weekend getaway. for some reason, my husband had forgotten to pack my makeup and i had anxiety about that. we ran into my parents who for some reason were living in the city. we had some ridiculous conversation about how my father wanted to build a concrete house (wtf?). and finally we were off.
but before we knew it, we were back home, and not at the hotel. the phone rang. then the front door opened. “surprise!” yelled my in-laws, “we were calling you from right outside your front door!”
“GET OUT!” i screamed. and it turns out that i yelled it in real life, too. i woke all of us up.