Every now and again I get slammed with what I like to call Tornado Brain, whereupon my brain decides that it really, really needs to have all the thoughts right now! Ugh. When I watched 11pm come and go last night I realized it was going to be one of those nights, and so I turned to Zzzquil. Generally, despite it’s claim to not make you groggy, Zzzquil renders me super groggy the next day, so I don’t actually like taking it, but it was too late to want to deal with chamomile tea. I thought maybe if I cut the dose in half it would be okay. And groggy making wise, it has been. (Or maybe having the Corbster dash across my face as a way of waking me up is just super effective? I digress.)
The other things this sleep aid does that I don’t like is: it makes me sleep so heavy I barely move, which right now means I wake up with a bit more leg pain than is typical. Also, it gives me nightmares.
Which has me thinking about nightmares and how, for me at least, what makes a dream a nightmare is all about the feelings and not necessarily about what’s actually happening. I have active dreams. Adventure dreams. My dreams are often centered around: getting away from stalkers, kidnappers — human or otherwise, and often its otherwise — finding a safe place to hide from either people or tornadoes, rescuing others in danger, etc. Usually I wake up and their just my dreams, they don’t often obtain nightmare status. Even the ones where I’m kidnapped by aliens (happens way more than I’d like; yes, I have a fear of aliens. Shut up. Stop laughing. This means You too, Poseidon) (“You do realize I’m not human, right? You’re not afraid of *Me*” Because logic, right? Shush). are not always ‘nightmares’.
Last night it was trying to get around my city (which wasn’t Eugene) as it was flooding from too much rain, and trying to get a vehicle to get out with. At some point there was a facility that had a truck, but also had some caged tigers and a polar bear roaming around free. Another woman and I were teaming up to get a pick-up, while trying to not get eaten by a polar bear. She gave me a gun to cover her (?) and some random woman came up while we were trying to get going. I shot her, and the the polar bear got at her, and as we were backing away, we ran over her already dead and mauled body. And that part, the running over a corpse, is the part that threw that dream into nightmare territory, right as Corbie went bouncing over my face. Not the tension of trying to get away, not being trapped in a rising flood (oddly, the “I’m about to drown” dreams — which happen a lot — tend to be soothing and reassuring rather than scary. Fancy that), not even watching her get torn apart; no that was all very chill and calm. But driving over something that could not feel the pain of being driven over? Omg, wake up NOW.
Dreams are weird.