Last night, Toby and I went out for a lovely high-carb meal at our local Noe Valley italian restaurant. I love that place. I love their salads and their giant inside out pizza (aka stromboli.) And I love their ravioli. We filled up on pasta, salad, and garlic bread and then headed home to sit around and watch some television – and evening ritual. By ten, we were exhausted and fell asleep.
A long time ago, before we moved here, throughout most of the time I spent in D.C. and definitely the last half I spent in NYC, I was having most vivid and disturbing nightmares. They would haunt me for days. I have had these my entire life, really. But over the past several years, they got worse. I don’t usually post about them on here. Mainly because hearing about someone else’s nightmares or dreams is very boring. It’s true. (If someone has told you otherwise, they’re lying to you to get in your pants or be polite.) And until Doug Martsch figures out a way to make movies of our dreams, I figured it’s probably best to just keep them to myself. (Missy, that one’s for you.)
Another reason I don’t usually talk about them is they are downright upsetting. And once I start writing them down, even I start thinking, “Wow, michele, you are severely fucked up.” (Excuse the language. But it’s true.) And while that might be true, there is no need to share my fucked-upness with the rest of the world. I do that enough by keeping a daily blog.
Before Toby got home from work yesterday, I was talking to my little brother. Somehow we got on the subject of the latest Bin Laden tape and of course, today’s election. We exchanged information and ideas about future attacks on our nation. And then he sent me this link. I read that over. Our conversation continued and by that point I had worked myself up. But nothing a little pasta couldn’t cure. (I thought.)
Either I over ate on the carbs last night or all the reading, thinking, talking, and then thinking I did somehow got packed into my nighttime luggage. And I guess I carried them off to sleep with me. Because at around 3 a.m. I woke up within the most disturbing nightmare I have had in nearly a year. It was totally alarming. I woke up sweaty and absolutely terrified. And it gave me a headache.
What I find most interesting about all of this is the fact that I hadn’t realized that the nightmares were gone until I had this one last night.
Which begs the question, why does one have trouble recognizing peace while they’re experiencing it? Up until last night I hadn’t realized how quiet and peaceful my nights have been until they were taken. And I do hope they aren’t back for good.