Either my psyche or my home decor is trying to kill me. Possibly both.
I tend to dream in the wee hours of the morning. Or sometimes mid-wee. I guess that makes sense, since I go to bed (now that I work normal-person hours) around 11pm. Often, therefore, I’m awakened in pre-dawn by some ridiculous dream.
This morning, I had two really bizarre imaginings. In the first one, I was at some sort of outdoor festival with two guys: Leo, who I barely know, and Bob, who I dated several years ago. While there, we ran into a man I sing with named Jim. I was holding Leo’s hand at the time, but wound up going home with Bob; Leo stood kind of befuddled and watched as we got into the car. Jim saw all of this and emailed me, telling me he thought some of my innocent flirting and smiling and misleading the guys was inappropriate (obviously!), and that I might have a kind of personality trait or disorder for which he wanted me to know about a support group.
Now, I think we all know that I can definitely use a group of some kind. By the way, my NEW insurance now claims they don’t list my shrinkapist as a provider even though they totally do, and I have a screen shot of that shit to prove it, and that’s only after the shrinakpist’s Office of Incompetents sent the bills for the two appointments I’ve had in the last month to my old insurance despite having taken my new information and copied my new card twice.
For fuck’s. Sake. People.
I had fallen asleep crying over Jack (dammit), and I’m not the slightest bit interested in dating anyone right now, though Leo is a nice guy, so I have no idea where this dream and its included hand-holding (his hand was warm and not too soft and the perfect size and I am only talking about his hand, you guys, jeez) could possibly have come from. But even in the dream, I felt terrible about confusing Leo and Bob, and being seen and judged by Jim.
Because I need to feel that way while I’m sleeping.
After that came a dream in which I had bought a condo. I never actually saw it, I don’t think, except maybe in dream flashbacks when Dream Me was thinking about the condo… I’m telling you, this was some complicated mental shit happening while I was trying to catch some shut-eye. Anyway, I dreamed that I had bought a condo (apparently instead of my actual real-life house), loved it, lived there for a month… but then second-guessed myself, sold it and bought a house in a city an hour away. A big, old, creaky, drafty, beautiful house. And while I was standing in the kitchen shortly after moving in, all alone, I looked behind me down a hall and wondered if the house was haunted. I thought about how old it was. As my stomach started to tighten (yes, I felt that in my sleep), I realized how many questions I had never asked and things I had never considered. My God, the windows weren’t even energy-efficient. My bills were going to be astronomical.
Slowly, so many things dawned on me… I had screwed my credit and left a condo I had loved for a beautiful house I could never maintain on my own without even asking fundamental questions. I had acted impetuously and now I was stuck.
I went outside and found myself walking around the block as I thought about being an hour away from everyone I knew. Why had I done that? Why did I suddenly decide to leave a place that felt like home to be in a place that was disconnected? And – as I approached the side of my house on my walk – what was that noise? Was that noise coming from my house?
And then I woke up, chest aching with the classic sign of an anxiety attack. And immediately after I woke up, the 42″ x 36″ decoration above my headboard fell and nearly crushed my skull.
Or it didn’t fall on me at all but it was really close. And it’s not that heavy but it definitely, definitely would have hurt if it had hit me.
It was 4:48am. Thanks to the senseless anxiety attack, I was awake for another half-hour.
So that was restful.
No idea what any of this means, by the way. The house thing… I dunno, maybe it has something to do with the fact that I had the builder’s contractor here the day before, trying to figure out how to cool down the upstairs because there’s no bulkhead carrying ductwork to my bedroom… he suggested putting a vent in the roof to let some of the trapped heat escape. Is the dream telling me not to do that? Or just that I should chill out about tiny imperfections in my house because it could be worse?
Is an 8-10 degree difference in temperature between floors “tiny?”
Or is my nocturnal brain the same thing as the vent the guy said he’d put in my roof… just blowing off steam?
Can it do that without the anxiety attack in my sleep, maybe? Because those things have never made sense to me.
Or was all of this just a psychosomatic warning that my wall decor was about to come crashing down so I had better wake up and maybe the best way to wake me up was to make me dream this?
Probably not that.