Thursday, September 09, 2004

the nightmares have begun

the stuff below was written straight from the nightmare so that i could get it all out, remember all of it. you see, i don't dream. none of those deep meaningful intense dreams i jealously hear others speak of, nope, nothing. occasionally there is a bit of a sexual dream that i have tiny bits of, but really there doesn't seem to be anything 'going on' up there while i sleep, at least anything that i can remember.

this morning on the other hand i awoke in terror. like those dreams i had so long ago that would leave my sheets soaked and my body shivering. i mentioned it before. it was always the same one. i was standing and the lion, the tin man and the scarecrow would start to float at me. i am frozen. i can't move, they come at me faster and faster and my lungs seize, there is no air to scream with, no air to breathe. next they have knocked me over and i am on my back and they are over me and i awake in terror. shaking from the exhaustion and the fear.

i couldn't sleep last night with liam's snoring, so i stumbled down the stairs at 2:30 wide awake again. i read blogs, left comments and answered some wonderful emails.

at 4:30 i determined to head to the couch, so i went to the basement to pee and remembered that my dad's apartment was down there empty. as i reached the bottom of the stairs i landed in a pool of rainwater. yuck. 4:30 in the morning and our basement is soaked. not near what others are dealing with, so i won't bore you with my irritation of sopping up water with chamois and rolling up carpet remnants. it's coming in three places, and it will mean a lot of work for liam right before the sr. high retreat, not good news.

i do this for about 40 minutes and figure i've got enough of a handle on it that we won't get mold or water damage. i sit on my father's bed to watch the weather station and cool down. i watch the re-run of hardball and click through the news and hear of the horrible bombing in jakarta. we have a compassion child - jeremiah in jakarta, i pray for him. exhaustion finally hits and i close my eyes tensely knowing that i will have to awaken in less than 1 hour to get the kids ready for the bus.

the next thing i know i am screaming liam's name. this is what i wrote as i stumbled up the stair to try and remember every little piece of it.


in my dream we were cleaning up from the mess the rain had left in the basement, even the kids were there eventually. i was so tired, it was a bigger mess in my dream than it was in reality. i was so tired. i left them to go upstairs to get something to drink and was so tired i laid on the couch for a moment. i was awoken by someone at my front door, it's still dark out and i know something is wrong. they are knocking and fumbling with the doorknob. is it locked? i pray it's locked. i am frozen. frozen in terror. silenced, unable to breathe and trying like anything to lift my arms and get up off the couch. i am frozen again. now i'm trying to yell for liam. my voice won't come, like in the nightmares of childhood. he gets the door open and slurs, 'i just wann somthin to drink... i jusss wanna i come in, i just wann sometin to drink...' i try to scream, try to free myself from the frozen state. i am unable. buck comes up the stairs in my dream and he heads toward him, i am finally able to scream and lurch free of the blankets and i scream 'liam!' and awake bolt upright in bed for real. my heart is pounding and i am unable to calm myself. i can't even figure out where i am.

liam didn't hear me. i was in the basement. when i realized where i was i headed straight to here so i could remember it all.


one of the only nurturing memories i have from my early childhood is my mother tucking my blankets in totally around me, snug as a bug, in a rug. she would say. somehow i thought that would make me safer. it didn't work.

i can't have tucked in covers now. we don't make our bed tucked in because of it. at a hotel i have to pull all of the covers free so i can sleep in the bed.

oh i hate this, i was wrong, i can't do it. i want to go back to keeping the bubbles under the surface. i'm still shaking, terrified, and now weeping.

who are those people who use children as sex toys? how can you steal innocence and call it your's? you of all creation are the most hideous. the most pitiful, the most cancerous. i blame you for the migraines, the anti-depressants, the ulcers and the pain. you have made the need for sleeping pills, for addiction, for escapism and numbing out. you cowards, you arrogant predators, no one your own age will have anything to do with you so you gratify yourself by raping the innocence from the world. i pray the grace of god never extends to you, that you must suffer for eternity with the guilt and unsatisfied lust that you ruined so many lives with.

see, it's so much easier to be angry than it is to be scared, easier to be sad than it is to be afraid. i hate this fear. i loathe this fear. i want it carved out of my psyche with a scalpel so it's no longer a part of me. it's weak and lame and i don't want to be a victim anymore. i just wish i had a face. i still have no face. no one to rail against, no one to blame. no face to make sense of this senseless violence against the child that was me. sleep is no longer my friend. sleep is something to be afraid of now. i am so tired, so very tired. i just want to wrap myself in my children's innocence and absorb it back into myself. i'm just so very tired.

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