I don’t sleep well most nights. Insomnia has been a part of my life for such a long time I can’t even really remember when it started and why. I quite often stay up late – til 1 or 2 in the morning – and then struggle to get up on time and function properly. Even then, when I’ve forced myself to go to bed and try to sleep because it’s stupid O’clock and I need to be working in 5 / 4 / 3 hours (occasionally it gets that bad), I still don’t sleep well.
I talk in my sleep, apparently. Mostly random words and sounds that sound like words. Not a lot that’s intelligible I’m told (to my relief at the time – I’ve since come to terms with simply being honest and open with my partner at all times. She already knows anything I could reveal in my sleep). I also grind my teeth sometimes, move around in the bed (tossing, turning and elbow flinging primarily), and have to get up to visit the toilet multiple times a night (mostly I don’t need to, it’s just a habit rather than a need).
I also suffer from ‘nightmares’. Waking dreams would probably be a better term. To give you an example I woke Jane up a few nights ago by starting upright, throwing the duvet off me, scrambling across the bed (to the opposite corner from my head, something I never do), and rushing out of the bedroom. In the process I banged my leg HARD on the bed frame. The bruise is still there and I broke the skin, it was that hard. It didn’t distract me though. That was all that Jane was aware of til afterwards; what I was doing, but not why I was doing it or what was happening in my head.
What was happening in my head was very different. Also very difficult to explain as most of it was a dream that faded very quickly afterwards. What I remember now is more of what I told Jane afterwards I think, rather than a definitive recall of what was. I was dreaming, and absolutely convinced that something (memory fails me) had made me into a sort of weird electro magnet which was pulling objects in the room; the bed posts, covers, books on shelves, the shelves themselves etc were being pulled towards me. (I know, it’s weird. I can’t explain it, I’ve had sleepwalking type incidents irregularly throughout my life.) What prompted my sudden start up and across the bed was the absolute belief that the ‘pull’ I was exerting was pulling an entire bookshelf down on top of both myself and Jane, so I took action.
Picture courtesy of Jim Kay – a fantastic illustrator.
I sprung lithely up and out of bed, desperate to get away from Jane so she would be safe. In a split second I was across the bed and moving towards the door. An excruciating pain suddenly lanced through my left leg. Something had hit me! I ignored the pain, knowing it was probably broken already and if I didn’t get out of the room quickly and put a solid wall in between myself and the trembling, angry bookshelf Jane could be in serious danger! I had to keep moving. My momentum carried me toward the door and I reached towards it knowing the bookshelf was wobbling towards me with lethal intent. My hand grasped the doorknob…
“Are you OK?” Jane’s voice calmly broke through the terror and confusion reigning supreme in my head. I stopped, hand still pulling at the door, my rational mind struggling to regain control and starting to calm the raging confusion. I knew it wasn’t real, I knew we were both OK, I knew my leg hurt like a bitch! “I’m OK babe… I’m having a dream… thing. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Even after my rational waking brain regained control I couldn’t quite shake the sure and certain knowledge that things were flying after me and if something big came in I’d get hurt. For some reason this was focused on the bedroom though. I knew I needed to get solid walls in between me and the danger. I walked into the kitchen and stood, in the dark (it was pitch dark the entire time of course, being the middle of the night and having no lights on), head in my hands and calming myself down. Clocks ticked and my heartbeat pounded. I started as Jane’s hand touched me shoulder and she softly asked if I was OK. Existing back in reality now we spoke and I explained what I could. She checked out my leg – banged, scraped and throbbing. I must have smacked it hard as the crack of my leg on the bedpost was part of what had woken her and she was worried I’d broken it! (It’s fine, just bruised). It took me about 20 minutes before I could go back to bed and sleep, fitfully.
Thankfully last night was a different matter entirely. I WAS late to bed at about 1.30AM after watching GI Joe 2 on Netflix. (It’s bad, don’t bother.) Once I got to bed though, I climbed in and warmed my hands before hugging Jane and falling immediately to sleep. This morning I woke feeling great and very, very happy to be who I am, where I am, loving the people I do and knowing I’m loved back.
There’s a long way to go. I know I will make the journey.
rightlifer 