Visions of Sleep

Early in the morning

Ere the sun has shown his face

My lids feel heavy

My eyes cross paths

So hard to stay awake

A mere hour before I have to get ready

For the busy day ahead

I need to wake up

To be alert

But my eyes have different ideas

They try to force my hand

To make me sleep again

I can’t let them succeed

I can’t give in

I have a job to do

No time for sleep

No time for resting those eyes

Raise those heavy lids

Force the eyes to stop crossing

My lids will meet once again in slumber

But not until the night

Not-So Sweet Dreams

So there I am, trying to behave myself during a Medicare inspection, when the Medicare auditor tells me I have to get an MRI. Okay, seems legit, right?

I go to get my MRI and almost forget that I have my keys in my pocket. Oops. That would’ve been bad. Then I play the waiting game==gotta bide your time until the radiology department decides to let you know what’s what.

I finally call them because it’s getting late and they haven’t called me yet. They tell me I have cancer in my back & I need to come in to the hospital to get it taken care of. Sure, why not? Again, it seems legit.

Once I get to the hospital, I find myself waiting and waiting and waiting to see a doctor. When are they going to have a doctor go over the results of my MRI with me?  I decide to go to a nurses’ station and ask whats up with that. Turns out the surgeon had just gotten there, so they took me to another room to discuss my results.

Imagine my surprise when my surgeon was not an oncologist but rather the cataract surgeon that I work with. Totally legit. Apparently they called him in because he ordered the MRI. And he was totally cool with it. He showed me where in my back the cancer was (right in some offshoot of my spine–no biggie) and told me he’d do the surgery.

Some other patient interrupted and came over telling some stupid story about his own cancer experience, talking over the doctor so I couldn’t hear when I was going to have the surgery. I got the impression that it would be soon, but I didn’t know what time exactly. Would I be able to eat anything, or did I have to wait until after the surgery? The surgeon left before I could ask, though, so I tried to ask at the nurses’ station but again they were pretty much useless.

I went off to see my husband & there with him was my best friend Crystal and her family. There were lots of hugs and well wishes, but still I couldn’t eat.

I woke up starving.

Stupid brain.


Okay, this upcoming three day weekend is much needed.

Last night I dreamed that a patient randomly started to fall face-first out of an exam chair. I mean, she was headed for full faceplant…until I jerked awake with a gasp. Work has finally invaded my subconscious to the point where I’m having semi-nightmares about it. (I don’t consider it a full-blown nightmare because it was more of a shock factor than a fear factor that woke me up…and I was fully aware that it was a dream the second I woke up. Usually nightmares have me really confused when I first wake up from them.)

I also had a weird dream that one of my exes was a serial killer. Hope I don’t have the FBI knocking on my door any time soon to ask questions lol

I keep telling myself that this weekend will help things calm down. I have a trip to Tucson with my husband and some new friends for cosplay and Costco shopping, so that may or may not be relaxing (sometimes even a day trip can wear you out), but Sunday and Monday should be all about cosplay work–except for an Independence Day dinner with the family.

Going to go finish that final belt loop on the Shatterstar pants that I have been procrastinating on due to sheer exhaustion, then I can finally get started on the coat…and learn how to thread and use my serger so I can make the Spandex stuff.

Yeah, I know, the cosplay push will be yet another thing to wear me out…but it’s a change from what I’ve been doing, so that’s a good thing I think. I just gotta keep up on it. Two months. Just two months. Can’t keep letting my physical and mental exhaustion get to me. I’ve got to get these done.

I can do it. I’m determined, just sluggish.

Weird dreams or not, I got this.

Doctor, Doctor

I had the strangest dream last night.

It began with me driving myself to some unknown location. I watched as a dude on a motorcycle nearly got run off the road by some angry guy in a truck. Then, I was sideswiped by an RV and nearly run off the road. (The guy in the RV was using his cell phone and not paying shit’s worth attention to the road.) Now, this being a dream and all, nobody stopped for these near-accidents–not even the drivers themselves (me included). A short while later, there was a chain-reaction accident, with the two cars ahead of the motorcycle and truck ramming into each other, then the truck finally succeeded in plowing down the motorcycle. The RV sideswiped me again and I got pushed off the interstate, but thankfully I wasn’t hurt.

The RV continued on (probably so distracted by his cell phone that he didn’t notice he had almost killed someone), and the survivors of the accidents–which happened to be all of us, miraculously–stood by the side of the road, calling 9-1-1 and waiting for police or ambulances to show up. No one arrived, though, so after several hours of waiting we walked over to a hospital that was across the road. Why didn’t we go there in the first place? It was a dream,silly. There rarely is a rational why in a dream.

I spent the next little bit of the dream crying like a baby because I was so upset that no cops had come to the scene of the accidents. By the time a cop arrived at the hospital I was in hysterics, and no amount of talk could console me because I never saw the license plate of the hit-and-run RV.

At some point i realized I was in Florida, though Gods know why (the most likely reason is that I had a patient yesterday who was talking about Florida–real-me, not dream-me). While at this hospital in Florida, I ran into a family that I hadn’t seen in a long time. They were doing well, which is odd considering the husband & wife divorced last year.

Flash forward to an unknown amount of time, and all of a sudden the Eleventh Doctor shows up. Don’t know who I’m talking about? I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. Anywho, he was being his usual silly self and I was trying to calm down after the accidents when suddenly, my tongue felt funny. I checked a mirror, and I had the most disgusting pustule on the end of my tongue.

I could barely talk, and I felt so gross and disgusting. The Doctor was nice enough to stick by me and try to help out. Now, if you know who I’m talking about, then you know that he’s not the kind of doctor I needed just then. As we tried to find a medical doctor, my tongue got worse and worse. It burned, and talking was nearly impossible due to the swelling. The pustule got bigger and bigger, and my teeth started falling out. I was spitting out blood, pus, and teeth all over the place. Just as we found a medical doctor, I woke up.

I think I’m going to go brush my teeth now. Maybe a couple of times.


When your dreams betray you

Dreams are great, for the most part. You can meet celebrities, travel wherever you want to go, be another person … fuck, if you want to you can fly.

Then come those dreams that aren’t so great. I had one of those just now.

Before I write about that, a little backstory for you:

I’m bipolar. It’s under control for the most part, but it’s there. It might even run in the family; I’m no doctor, so I can’t say 100% for sure. Nature versus nurture and all that. But I have family was has been committed and I’m a direct descendant of a man who died in an institution. The cause of death? “Exhaustion in the progression of psychosis.” Now, I don’t think about this much and haven’t in a long time, but at times it does come to the forefront and it troubles me.

This morning it more than troubled me. It terrified me.

The dream started innocently enough. I was at work, and I was about to check the blood sugar of a patient who was getting very lightheaded and becoming incoherent.

Then the shit it the proverbial fan. I got in trouble for not using the right sterile technique (even though I ended up not doing the blood sugar check–the patient’s friend did) and then my boss started yelling at me for a multitude of things I had done wrong, including not decorating one of the rooms in the office properly (hey, it was a dream, okay?) and boring everyone with little factoids I kept talking about.

Then she had me committed.

It was terrifying. I could only see my husband for a short while, during visiting hours, and I couldn’t see my family at all. The kitchen fucked up my dinner–they didn’t tell me my food was ready and the macaroni and cheese got cold to the point where it was inedible. So there I was, all alone except for the other patients (who wouldn’t talk to me), and all I could think was I wasn’t allowed to see my husband and my family and how devastatingly sad I was that all of my coworkers thought the things I said were boring. It may not sound that bad, but remember, in dreams things can seem more real than reality.

That’s when I woke up sobbing uncontrollably, and my husband woke up for a moment to find out what was wrong.

I’m still crying a little bit, more than half an hour later.

This dream just hit me like a freight train. I haven’t thought about the familial mental health issues in what seems like forever, and work has been going pretty well. The last couple of days (when I was in charge because my boss was on vacation) went fine. So why did my subconscious betray me?

It’s hard to say. Sometimes dreams just pull stuff from the deepest part of your mind and bombard you with ghosts that you thought you had exorcised.

I’ve stopped crying now, but I’m not sure I’m ready to go back to sleep. I don’t want to end up on that little cot in the asylum again anytime soon.

The weird sleep

Is there a medicine to take away weird dreams? If not, I feel there should be.

As any regular reader of this blog may know, I have troubles sleeping sometimes. Okay, often. Okay, almost every night. On top of that, I also usually have extremely strange, vivid dreams.

I am so tired of being tired. I take my medications like I’m supposed to, but I still have a lot of trouble staying asleep through the night and getting a good restful sleep.

*Sigh* I guess this post is turning into more of a bitchfest than an actual post. I’m sorry, guys. I just can’t muster up the brainpower to think of something worthwhile to say.

Feed me, Seymour!

Got the first feedback of my finished and published novel today. The reader loved it! She’s going to post a positive review on Amazon and also write up a review for the website we work for.

This is what I wrote it for. This. To get feedback from readers, to hear that people loved reading what I wrote. This is what the last year to year and a half has been about.

Yeah, I know it’s one person. I know it’s only one sale. But for someone who wasn’t sure if she could get even that much, it’s a huge step. I’m beyond ecstatic. I did it. I really did it.

Now, on to the next one!

To dream or not to dream

I have decided that, entertaining though they may be at times, having ultra vivid dreams sucks.

There are some nights when I wake up from one of these dreams and I can’t go back to sleep. Not necessarily because said dream was a bad dream per se, but because the dream felt so real that it’s unnerving. I just don’t want to go back to sleep and experience that again.

Perhaps that’s part of the reason I feel so tired all the time. I don’t get proper rest even on a night when I sleep “well.” How can you feel rested when you’ve just lived an entire day in twenty minutes? The mere concept is exhausting.

Some people say you should write down your dreams and use them as story fodder, but who wants to read a story about going shopping for Christmas decorations after a half day at work? Sure, I could turn it into some kind of quirky tale where everything goes wrong. Or maybe an inspirational story.

Or maybe I need to go back to bed.