where the bad dreams are…

Every time I close my eyes I find myself employing the tactic my mom taught me as a wee little monster, think of sweet sweet dreams. While I am no longer drawn to the land of rainbows, candy and unicorns I can find a place or two to go. I don’t care to share the heavenly circumstances with any of you, I wouldn’t want to find overcrowding at my nightly hot spot.

The problem is this tact isn’t working. I am an vivid dreamer. I love the dream world nearly as much as my real life with the family Kaos. Sleep is a fantastic release for me, which is why when I am not getting sleep you all get to hear me shout from the rafters about it. When I’m not sleeping I will literally climb up to rafters if I find them just to shout at people. Don’t let me near the rafters people it will not go well for any of us.

With all that said, ever since Monday night I’ve been having nightmares. That’s kind of inconvenient for me.

Every time I close my eyes and go to my happy place (I know you are laughing at me, stop it, it’s not like Happy Gilmore with the beer and the little guy riding a stick horse) I dutifully drop off to dream land. My conscious mind can keep those demons at bay, but once I hand myself over to my swoony sleepy subconscious I’m stuffed into some horrific nightmare. Sometimes I’m stuck in a mall, office, skating rink, school, hair salon, mechanic wherever with a lunatic gunman, sometimes my family is, sometimes my friends, sometimes I am sitting at home KNOWING that is happening to those I love or just to some person halfway across the world and there is nothing I can do.

Just sit there. Knowing.

Once my cats for some reason went to kitty day care where they were taken prisoner by a gun toting lunatic collie in a baseball cap.

You see the trouble here, even when I am sleeping I can’t escape the insanity of what’s going on in our world. It doesn’t help me to know that soon the asinine spree of copy cats will end because not long after that some other lunatic starts on a new tirade. And because even if it isn’t happening here I know it’s happening elsewhere, it’s making me nuts. I’m itchy, uncomfortable, displaced, and displeased that this is the world I am raising my child in, my cats in, even raising my husband in.

There is no moral or lesson to this post (except that I am so self centered that I am complaining about my anxiety about these events and not saying what I should say, which is my heart goes out to everyone touched by this horror).

I’m facing down another night fearing sleep enough to make me want to stay awake.

Maybe I’m hoping I can return to that state of numbness we seem to need to thrive in these times. Maybe the numbness, the ability of so many to dismiss this as something that didn’t happen to them, is what is giving me the nightmares to begin with.

I guess it’s time to dream of cats and collies…