Thursday, October 11, 2007

Take a cat and call me in the morning.

The last couple nights, I've been plagued with nightmares. Nightmares about stalkers, nightmares that I'm working at Target again, nightmares about medical crises, and others I thankfully managed to block out.

It was getting to the point that I was dreading nap/nighttime. I function far better if I get a nap in the afternoon, but I was feeling very persecuted, plagued, and not a little paranoid. Bubba moved out of my bed about the time the nightmares started. I can't say that I blame him - I've been told I do everything from sleepwalk, scream, moan, and cry.

Who'd want to sleep with that? Due to unfortunate events yesterday, I didn't even get my nap. Certified mail package, phone calls, and noisy neighbors all conspired to keep me awake. Last night I had a total of 3 recalled nightmares. That's a record.

Today I came home exhausted. I had hoped I could get my nap, but my power-equipment neighbor had other ideas. Weed whacking, mowing, any rest I got was incredibly fitful and I was starting down the nighmare path.

I felt a pressure at the foot of the bed. Then, something soft curled up by my feet. Frosty. I remember a good, drooling nap (the kind where I wake up with a very dry mouth and a full bladder). I had a marathon dream, I have them occasionally. Sometimes I participate, sometimes I'm a spectator. This time I was at a store that was IKEA but it wasn't. I had a pink contemporary loveseat I'd dragged out to the front of the store so I could watch the race and read my manual. I was chatting with people. Then I woke up.

I wish my doctor could write me a prescription for the cats to sleep with me every night as needed.

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