Bad Dreams or Omens....

I have fought sleep most of my life. I usually have bad dreams or violent dreams that are next to impossible to discern. Tommy used to worry about me. He would hold me until I was no longer afraid. He couldn't understand what I was so afraid of and I couldn't tell him because I did not know. 

Now I take medication to help me sleep and I seldom dream, until this past month or six weeks.

 When my mother was dying from Alzheimer's, I kept a dream journal. Continually I would have the same dream night after night. It seldom varied and always caused me to wake up in a cold sweat, startled with my heart pounding in my chest.

In the dream I was approaching an old two story house, badly in need of paint. There were no curtains on the windows except for the first window on the top floor.  Visible for all to see was a torn, dirty, white curtain bellowing out of the window, waving to a few passing people.  All the other windows were all raised and empty, beckoning to no one in particular.

The landscape looked like Kansas during the Dust Bowl. The house had seen much better days. The rickety stairs were on the right side of the building. Some of the steps were broken or ready to break. There was no banister. I had to walk up the steps. They numbered about 20.  I walked slowly with my left had on the side of the building. I couldn't take my eyes off the steps. If I did I would fall. As I climbed, I stumbled several times, finally reaching the top of the stairs. There was a door waiting to be opened.  When I walked through the door, there was no floor and I fell into nothingness.  

I had this dream every time I went to Kentucky to visit my mother. I can pick apart some of the meaning, or at least I think I know what it meant. It was hard watching Mama loose bits and pieces of herself daily. After she died the dreams stopped.

Now, I have a new nightmare. It is not as scary as Mama's dream was, but it is unnerving at times. Especially after I first wake up. Those first 5 or 10 seconds while I am trying to regain control, I feel disconnected. Then I put my feet on the floor and my day begins to make sense.

In this new dream, I am driving on the interstate in the middle of the night with no headlights or brake lights. It is pitch black. There is no moon. I cannot see where I am going or where I have been. There is no one on the road but me, however I hear cars and trucks coming toward me and behind. I just can't see them. I know they are there somewhere. I hear squalling tires, horns honking, cars skidding and wrecking.  The sound of breaking glass and crushing metal causes me to begin the process of waking up. A huge explosion usually breaks through the dream, finishing the job. I am awake.  Once again I am sweating and breathing hard. I know I missed being killed but just barely. Whatever time I wake up, I am ready for my day to begin.  After making coffee, I will sit down and begin to write. Soon I shake off the bad feeling and I am ready to start the day.  Life is good, I enjoy my day and before I know it, once again it is time to try and find sleep in the middle of the night. I will be glad when these dreams run their course and sleep, a deep sleep of no remembrance embraces me. One can always hope.