This is the ugly in me

I almost lost everything. Why.  Because of my sick freaking nightmares. For most of my life it appears I was willing to do just about anything to avoid the ugly in me. The fear. The pain. The grief. When these three horseman would converge in my sleep the nightmares would strain my sanity. Literally. If you read these posts you will hear the story of how this ugly inside saves me from dying in my sleep. Severe sleep apnea is now been addressed. Ironic that the very thing that almost destroys me in the end saves me and sets me free.

Someday I'll be free to share the depths to which I fell, for now I will not risk the innosense of my children for the comfort of unburdening my soul. When they are grown I will admit my sins publicly in hopes of helping those who face the sick freaking nightmare that was my life.

The love of my life who knows most all of me now said, "But those dreams were not real. Your nightmares are only dreams that are not real life. Us, you and me, here, now. This is real. We are real. You are real. Your dreams are dreams. They are not real."

I breathe now when I sleep. I dream now when I sleep. Life is real now. There is no inbetween. I am whole. I am happy. I am sane. Still a little bit crazy, but sane nontheless. 

I write elsewhere now. 

I will return someday when I am able. Or if again I must understand the unreal. If the three horsemen ride once again and the sick freaking nightmares speak to me once again.

They're Back

For most of the summer I've been blessed with sweet, deep, restful slumber with dreams of sunshine and rainbows. At least that is what I have imagined as my dreams went unremembered and I had been waking with no angst or fear. This all changed a few weeks back and has been steadily getting worse. My sick freaking nightmares are back. It's getting so bad that once again I am afraid to go to sleep. So here I sit telling my story of woe.

I know it's just a dream. This is not real. But every night in my dreams one of my daughters comes running up to me, hysterical, say someone has had something terrible happen to them and they need my help. Last night it was Mary and she was screaming, "daddy daddy a man fell off the balcony and he needs your help!" I struggle to reach this victim of horror and when I get there he's a mess all bloody with mangled limbs and torn face and when I touch him he comes to life and starts to attack. He claws and scratches and bites and I fight for my life and when I finally get away he goes after my daughters. They scream as it grabs them and I struggle again to get back to them. I tear it's head off and rip it limb from limb to unwrap my screaming daughters from it's evil grasp.

Daddy daddy there has been a fire. A man was on fire and he needs your help.

Daddy daddy there was a car accident. A man went through his windshield he needs your help.

Daddy daddy a man fell in the river.

Daddy daddy a man crashed his plane. Daddy daddy I think he's dead.

Dreaming My Life Away

Not sure if this is really possible, but every night I dream a lifetime. A while ago I realized if I can see my nightmares through to the end they resolve and I  can barely remember them. I see myself standing in this resolution and I decide not to wake up, but to move forward and see where this dream-life will take me. Last night I grew to be a very old man. A happy old man. I remember lying back in my bed and looking forward to what dreams may come. I  dreamed about the wonderful life I had lived and then I woke up.

Life is too Short to be this Miserable

She saved my life. Again. She said this morning, "Life is too short to be this miserable." So simple. So true. No judgement. Just a fact. Death will come soon enough. Too soon.

The Worst One

So I've done it. No recollection of how I did it, but I'm dead. I'm not buried or crushed or struggling. I'm just dead. I'm lying there motionless in the dark. At least I think I'm lying down. I don't feel anything. I can't see anything. Total darkness. I can't hear anything. Nothing. No ringing in my ears and I think for a moment that even that would be nice. Total silence. No breathing. No heartbeat. No voice. I panic and shout out for help. No voice. No breathe to push the words. I reach for my face. No hands. No feeling. I start to cry. No tears. Nothing.

I think something terrible has happened. What has happened to me? Then I realize I'm dreaming. I must be dreaming. But nothing is happening. What am I dreaming? Is it possible to dream nothing ? I think it's time to wake up now! But nothing. I think WAKE Up! Nothing. I think. I think. It's all I can do. The thought condenses. I am. 

What am I? What have I become? I am me. But what does that mean? And the nightmare truly begins with the thought, "Who was I?" And I remember my last day. I was miserable. It was Mothers Day. And I was miserable. So upset with myself. Such a failure. Such a loser. Such a burden to those who loved me most. The regret. The sorrow. The pain. In my body. In my soul. I couldn't let it go. And then I remember like the breaking of silent thunder. I asked God for this. I wanted to be dead. I actually prayed to be dead. But I am. Everything is gone. But I am. No more pain in my back. No more ringing in my ears. No more asthma. No more headaches. No more anything. But I am. I try not to think. I try not to remember all that was. But I am.

And then the most terrifying thought of all. What's next? Nothing. Silence. 

Lost

Been having a recurring dream lately. I'm wandering. Lost. In hotel hallways. In the woods. In the desert. On the street. It's weird because I'm not trying to get anywhere. I just don't know where I am trying to go. But I know I need to be there. 

Reboot

Been thinking a lot about those brilliant flashes of white light I had experienced so frequently in the first half of my life. Maybe it's the brilliant light people have been drawn to in near death experiences. That light at the end of the tunnel. I think maybe it was God. He was hitting my reset button. Waking me up. Sending me back. Rebooting. Giving me a replay.