Something inside me can’t sleep.
Dreams are a constant mystery in my life. Everything from my grandfather coming to the house to talk to me, to my sister coming down with an awful nervous system disease, to caustically honest conversations with former lovers, to a storm of epic proportions, to coworkers showing up to see me perform in a play but because I hadn’t even looked at my lines the play was a disaster.
While many of the dreams that crash into my evening’s rest are absurd, there are those dreams that refused to leave me alone even when I am awake. They are vivid, nauseating, haunting. They’re memories that form like infections and lodge themselves in crevasses of my waking mind.
Sometimes its just too much. Too much to sit and wait for the storm outside to be over, not knowing if we’d be alive at the end. Too much to see my grandfather’s face so plainly in front of me, just smiling, just smiling. Too much to see my sister struggling to maintain any kind of physical activity knowing that her nerves are ready to strike at any moment.
Sometimes I don’t want to go back to sleep.