For as long as I can remember I haven't slept very well, without help at least. My dreams are vicious. When I was a kid I would dream I was standing in front of the toilet taking a leak, then I would reach out to flush and wouldn't be able to find the lever. I would wake up soaking wet, sticking of piss and ashamed and struggle to hide what I had done, but never could.
I had movie nightmares. The monkeys from the wizard of oz. The gorillas on horseback from the planet of apes. Lost in the towering inferno. Jaws. All perfectly normal childhood nightmares. But I would walk in my sleep. Talk in my sleep. Grind my teeth. Cry. And leave the house. I would even eat in my sleep. Adding a third or fourth dimension to the drama playing in my head at night.
My sister died when I was young and my dreams got really bad. She would visit me in my sleep. We would be doing something benign like talking about her favorite color purple or I would be brushing her hair and I would remember that she was dead so I would grab her to try and hug and kiss her and she would turn to clay and I would disfigure her face and then struggle to sculpt he rack to normal only making it worse.
Recently my other sister died. I have yet to remember seeing her in my dreams but I'm sure I have. The crazy thing is I hear her when I sleep. She was deaf. Her voice so unique. I hear her voice, but can not see her lips. I hear the sounds, but can not make out what she is saying. Our whole life she spoke to me with no sound and we read each others lips. Sick freaking nightmare. Have you ever heard a deaf person cry?
The worst sick nightmares I have I don't always remember. Thank God. But I'm convinced they happen every night. and more recently since I have been off my medication they wake me up. I have learned over the years if I can see them through and stay asleep they are but a whisper of a memory. easily forgotten, but if I let it wake me up I see it as clear as a blue ray.
I kill myself in my sleep. Sometimes pills. Sometimes I jump. Sometimes a gun or I swerve into oncoming traffic. I've drowned. I've frozen. I've burned. Burning's the worst because I taste it. Then I wake up berried alive. Sometimes in a box. Sometimes in the dirt or under sand or in a tight cave or under rubble, but I struggle to move and cannot. I struggle to breath and can a little, but start to gasp and suffocate, but cannot lift my arms to clear what is choking my face. Slowly I start to die again and start to kick my legs, but they won't move. Shake my head back and forth and as I gasp my last breathe again think I hear my deaf sister scream your still alive. Then I wake up in a cold sweat, gasping for air.
Remembering these sick nightmares suck, but my medication is no longer an option.
I plan on documenting this little glimpse of hell here on this new blog. Maybe it will help. I tried to explain what I go through to my wife and she said a great thing, 'They aren't real.' I'm not so sure. I think God let's me kill myself in my sleep so Iwon't do it while I'm awake.
Death sucks.
