| 1/4 dream |
sometime early this morning i woke up with a quick shout and scared the bejeebers out of the cat and myself and must have woken up dominic across the hall. it might have been about 2:30, but when i mentioned it dom would only admit to hearing me some time later and he couldn't tell what i was saying. so i don't know ... he was being polite. the creepy thing is that - to my knowledge - i have never done this before (well, not since i was 3 or 4, mom, and saw that scarey face in the window which turned out to be the moon). in the dream i was in a dark room and there was danger and off in the corner was a figure in shadows. i just couldn't take it any more so i yelled at it/him WHAT ARE --- and then woke up to the sound of my own voice. the cat had been sleeping tail-end towards me, but now she was in my face wide-eyed, wild-furred and ready for a fight. i apologized, but she'd have none of it (not a good day for her all around, since the plumber stopped by to fix her toilet around noon and she hates the plumber). so where did this shouting come from? it's so embarassing. so out of control. none of us like to think that we snore. and none of us like to think that we yell crazy shit in our sleep. but i guess we do. i have a few theories, but the primary one will do: it was THE DRUGS. i resolved to stop taking them that instant. and i haven't had even one half of one little white pill. and i'm feeling fine. and the new doctor told me to stop taking it, too. i saw a new doctor today, but forgot to mention the dream. why should i? we don't tell doctors our dreams, do we? we tell them our tummy aches and thumpadethumps. he wanted to know the usual. if i was stressed, if i ingested much caffeine. if the family had a history of - what did he say? - depression? thyroid problems? he wanted to know what the other doctor at the ER did and said. he confused me. doctors always confuse me. they look at me like i'm supposed to be the one who knows all the answers. and then they hand me a little cup and stick a needle in my arm. i used to run screaming at the thought of a needle in my arm - now i just don't care because there's no escape. i feel fine. but maybe now i know more about that figure in the shadows. i feel fine. i'm tired of writing about my non-existent health crisis. so let me say - before i drift off to non-verbal sleep - that i saw a fine movie tonight. i went alone. it is called In the Bedroom. a fine movie to go to alone. maybe even a great movie. i will read more andre dubus. but not tonight. tonight i will have gentle dreams full of butterflies and old shoes. silent dreams for the silver screen. the cat will fall in love with lillian gish. |
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