cancer – day 134

Early evening

Back to being so tired now that I can’t stand up. Talking on the phone makes me need a two-hour nap. Thinking is a burden I just can’t seem to muster the oomph to achieve. Fatigue, who knows how bad it really can get.

4AM

Wow, sleep is eluding me tonight. (Oh, and the neighbor’s party is still going on too, some all-night beer drinkin’ goin’ on over there, methinks) I finally went to bed around 2:30AM I think. We did go to the Firehouse milonga for an hour, until about midnight, so realistically getting to bed around 1AM and then having some time to actually fall asleep isn’t that odd for me at night. Except these days of sleeping all day and all night, that is.

Anyway, I now firmly believe trazadone is evil. Better not to sleep than have nightmares like this. . .

So I’m some kind of researcher or investigator and I’m working on the history of this ancient Chinese temple/fortress, including specific undocumented horrific events rumored to have occurred there. I’m on day three of my trip to the place, no telling when I’ll be leaving because this could be turning into an enormous project. The first day I just explored and felt what I could of the energy of the place, got my impressions of what little portion of it I was able to see (because it’s so huge, like a small city in size and complexity, rather than just a palace). The second and third days I started recording the sounds around me and taking notes on where I was and what the rooms were for, sleeping rooms, tea rooms, etc.

Night 3, I’m back at my little room (little, meaning like the size of my entire current house) and I lie down to listen to three recordings I’d made where something a little more interesting seemed to have been happening. Well, I don’t remember anything from the first two recordings, except that they both started too soon, I started making comments or verbal notes too soon in the recordings, and it affected the quality of what was recorded.

The third recording scared the hell outta me. It has a long, silent, open air sound beginning. I could feel the room getting colder, and I’m all tucked all in with the blankets (this was true of the room I was sleeping in in the dream, the room I was listening to on the audio in the dream, AND the room I was actually sleeping in last night, next to Mark). It feels like there’s something big and heavy on my legs (back in the dream now), like when Mizzou and Kingsford used to both want to sleep between my feet or knees, and Mizzou would always end up half over one my legs, and I tell ya, a 16 pound cat can immobilize my leg with little difficulty! Then I start to hear the breathing of an incredibly large, solid, heavy dog. Breathing heavily and low, not agitated, but aggressive breathing. And this ghost dog comes across the room (eases off the lower part of my bed?) and comes right up to my throat. I can feel the hot breath from my esophagus to my lower left ear, that’s how huge this dog’s face was, because it’s mouth was barely open. I want to say it was a Rottweiler, but I’m really vague on that. Anyway, I’m scared stiff and tucked in my blankets from the cold, so my arms (and legs) are pretty useless. And then it happens, the dog takes my throat.

I tell it to let go. I tell it to Let Go. Finally, feeling hot blood rushing from my throat as it starts to tear open under the jowls of this massive jaw, I yell through his jaw “LE’ . . . GO . . . ‘OW!!” With as much strength as I could muster and trying to push the dog away with my arms from under the covers.

Apparently I said all three of these sentences out loud in bed, and the third one was loud enough and scary enough that Mark understood it and woke me up. He asked if I was ok. Twice, before I could say “yeah, nightmare.” He asked what happened and I told him “a dog tore my throat out.” He thought he misunderstood and I had to tell him again. At which point he started patting me and saying it was ok now, I’m ok now. Whew, doggy, it took a while to calm down from that one. Well, maybe so, but an hour later after waking up from that dream, I’m more than a bit hesitant to get back in the bed.

Maybe I should go next door to see if they’re having any wine with that beer. No wait, it’s quiet. They must have finally wrapped up the end of their party next door. Hmmm, do I dare go back to bed?

One thing’s for sure. Ambien may not be working to help me sleep at night anymore, but Trazadone is definitely NOT the solution.