Sleep

I got too much sleep last night. My husband went to bed at 10, and by 11pm, I was fast asleep on the couch, Travis by my head, "The Alaskan Experiment" on the television.

I woke up at midnight and dragged myself to bed.

I woke up at 9am this morning. Ten hours of sleep--that's way too much. Lately, my sleep patterns have been out of whack. I'll get six hours one night, ten or eleven the next night.

I woke up at 7:30 this morning. I looked at the clock and the cats sleeping on the bed with me. "I have nothing waiting for me at 7:30 in the morning," I thought. Back to sleep.

I woke up an hour later. Travis was digging into the blanket by my arm. Dig, pick, pick, dig. My cats take turns waking me up in the morning so I can feed them. Okay Travis, okay, I'll get up.

Zzzzz....

Again at 9am--dig, dig, pick, pick. If I sleep past 9, I have a mild sense of panic. Even on the weekends; I just can't sleep past 9 for some reason. If I do, I get this sensation that life is passing me by. That I'm missing something, and no one is waiting for me.

I grind my teeth at night. Half the time, I awake with a splitting headache. I think that's part of the problem. Normally sleep would help a headache. Not in my case; it just makes it worse. But stupidly, sleepily, I always forget this and dive back into the pillow for another hour.

I have vivid dreams all night long. Sometimes I remember them clearly, sometimes they are just general storylines, glimpses. Limerick's white face. An ocean. My husband. Driving somewhere, nowhere, the sun setting, the sky purple, hurrying me on. If I awake then go back to sleep again, my dream will resume. It can be maddening sometimes; like being lost in a loop.

If it's a nightmare that I'm going back into, it's terrifying. I fight to stay awake but at four in the morning, it's hopeless.