I am a dreamer. A vivid dreamer. I very present dreamer.
My nightmares tend to be reoccurring. There’s the one where my teeth are falling out. The one where I have a never ending piece of bubble gum that I can never fully get out of my mouth. I think those are easily interpreted as things I can’t and I things I need to say.
I have the confusion nightmare. It is what I imagine dementia will be like. I can’t form thoughts, I’m lost, I recognize faces but don’t know who they are, I’m don’t know where I’m at, I’m agitated and terrified. Deep down, this is the thing I am most afraid of suffering from.
What felt like all night and this morning, I had the kind of nightmare that is calm and seemingly harmless at first, but then it gets a hold of you and you realize things are not as they seem. Worse yet, it’s the kind where you can wake up multiple times and it just grabs you right back when you go back to sleep.
I dreamed I was dead, but still very much with my family. Watching them, and them fully unable to see or hear me. Trapped and helpless while they were in pain and dealing with life after my death. It was so real. So, plain and factual. Which made it worse because it was so hard to tell that I was just dreaming. When there are no purple fuzzy monsters around to tell your brain that this is obviously not actually happening to dream, such pedestrian images as my husband crying while he makes the kids lunches is heartbreakingly authentic feeling in a dream state.
I woke up so deeply sad and discombobulated. I could barely get myself out the door this morning. I felt like I’d gotten some sort of awful glance into an alternate universe and I hated it. I need some sort of subconscious brain bleach. A Silkwood shower for my id.