Flashbacks in My Sleep – I Lost it.

Mental Health Hospital Window by Flickr user ramenlover. (CC by NC-SA-2.0)

One morning last year, while adjusting to new medications, I had a pretty bad episode. It started with a series of nightmares. To be sure, I always have terrible fucking nightmares. The kind that literally leave me screaming when I wake up, and the kind that make me feel weak and powerless. But there are other kinds of nightmares. This time, we are talking about flashback nightmares.

You know in movies, you see a guy with PTSD (never women for some reason, but whatever) wake up after dreaming about “the war” or whatever. He’s pale, sweaty, panting, all that jazz. That night was like that.

It started with weird dreams about someone else driving, and us getting into a car accident. Sounds fairly normal, I guess. Except that I’ve been in about a dozen. I know exactly how terrible car accidents can be. I’ve lived through a vehicle literally exploding seconds after I got out. Talk about a come-to-Jesus moment. I’ve seen 2 kids die, because the driver of the vehicle I was in ran a red light. I’ve been thrown from vehicles, because my mom didn’t believe in seat belts. And because she didn’t believe in car maintenance, I have a huge scar on my right foot from being thrown out by a faulty door. Yep, my nightmare got creative fast with all that as fuel.

Then the dreams switched, and the {male parent person} has turned of my power, because I didn’t sell enough drugs. That dream (understandably) morphed into a nightmare about the police breaking in to our home and shooting me as I tried to get my brothers out of the house. That one didn’t happen in real life, but shit it was scary.

I don’t remember everything else I dreamed about that night. I do remember sitting up, staring out the window, and waiting for the sun to rise. Jenny woke up, and started talking to me. I kept it together for about 1/2 of a second, and then I just blubbered for hours. Jenny sat with me, mostly quietly, just being with me, holding me.

Eventually, I got up, and we went upstairs. About 15 minutes in, we realize Jenny is sick, the Girl is sick, I feel like shit (duh.) and the Boy needs help with school, and is having a hard time understanding what’s going on. I sucked it up, and took over the homeschool for the day, so Jenny and the Girl could focus on getting better.

Strangely enough, helping other people is just what I need sometimes. When all I’m left with is a sinking hole, an emptiness, it helps to feel like I can help someone. It doesn’t fix anything, but it reminds me that there is a reason to fix things.

Sorry if this post was a little intense. And if you want to know more about me selling drugs, you will have to travel back in time, or, prepare to buy my book. Which I will publish. Eventually.

Cheers!