Dreamy little dreams

Oh goodness, things are moving so slowly.  I’ve let the dreams take over and I’m lost in the muddy residue they create in my head.  My mind is forever cycling through memories, blips of places and thoughts, feelings….huge feelings, that don’t match reality.  I remember, vividly, a floating dock with a large, rusted trailer nearby.  It isn’t from living memory, but comes from my dreams.  I remember several dreams of this place when I was little (both in the dream and in the real world) and it carries a sense of dread I can’t quite capture with words.  Inside the trailer the rust is on everything, including the windows, and the whole place seems lit from within with a Martian-red hue.  It wavers slightly, the air inside the trailer, making you feel like you’re under water except for the lack of buoyancy and the red dust that gets sucked into your lungs as you breathe.  The sun is very hot there and feels much closer and brighter, making my eyes constantly water so I can’t always see where I’m going or what is happening around me.

So exhausting.  I keep flipping from one memory to the next, unable to focus or stay on task.  I’m so tired today.  I feel like I’m already sleeping as my brain shorts in and out, head bobbing and eyes fighting so hard to close.  I’m tired from all the dreams.

Maybe I’m just tired of life.  From life.  Of….  who knows anymore?

I remember running for my life in dreams; speeding through a forest with giant, hot-white missiles screaming through the sky overhead, exploding against ancient pine trees; the reverberations from the impacts shaking the soil beneath me.  I was slipping and tripping over roots and rocks and dips in the soil and I fell so many times I though, each time, that the next would surely shatter my knee caps.   That was if I avoided being vaporized by white balls of furious energy.

I can feel the dust packing under my fingernails while clawing a tiny hole in the drywall, picking at it until it was large enough to crawl through.  I would lie flat against the wall on the inside, hot water pipes snaking up my back, branding me with the manufacturers letters embossed on their sides.   Burning hair; burning skin; raging fear.

My muscles ache when I recall how hard it was to contort my body into a pretzel so I could fit between the couch cushions but also how it was the best hiding spot in the entire world.  I also discovered that if I lay perfectly flat and perfectly still I could climb up to the very top of the metal shelves I found in a cold cellar and no one could see me.  Of course, as people started locking the place up for the night they climbed the shelves to make sure no one was hiding exactly like I was.

Remembering the attic hatch in the closet of the bedroom I was held captive in, hiding up there from the demon like creature who had me in his clutches.  I would only be allowed out of my room once per day to use the bathroom across the hall.  In many of those dreams the thing that would occupy my mind more than the fear of what was about to happen to me, was how much I missed having a hot bath.  There was no bathtub in the little half-bath downstairs across the hall from my room (prison).

I remember the prison that sits outside the original town, filled with ghosts rather than people.  The weird little subdivision where the houses start out perfectly normal but, as you move down the street, they start to become odd; windows start slanting at strange angles, doors open upside-down and backwards…  eventually they start to shrink in size and have proportions reminiscent of fun house mirrors.  People live in them but whenever I try to find them they vanish in a flash.  It always, always feels like they were just there, moments before.  I can almost see the air stirring where they stood, only moments ago.

This cycle is going on and on and on in my brain and I can’t seem to stop it.  I want to sleep so badly, just so I can sort some of this stuff out.

And then I remember sleeping there…usually the only way I can sleep there is if someone is physically shielding me from danger with their body.  There are several people that follow me around in dreams who aren’t out to hurt me (they don’t help me either…just kind of witness things as they happen).  They sometimes lie around me forming a human wall that protects me from harm while I sleep.  I pull those images up when I want to vanish into thin air and sometimes it works.

Right now I want to vanish.  Email is pouring into my inbox and I’m not even in my office so will return to a long chain of annoyed voice mail about things that need to be done….I’m actively avoiding it for the moment. Going to get lost in some endless, run-on, made far more complicated than it should be, payroll.  If only I could dream my way through it all.

2:15.  Less than two hours to go.  I’m aiming directly for my couch when I get home.

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About Grainne

My name is Grainne. This blog has been with me for years now and has served as a journal, a confessional, an outlet and a place for me to create and express my love of life. Thank you for stopping by and for becoming a part of this life long journey of mine. I appreciate every single one of you who takes the time to do so. :)

6 responses to “Dreamy little dreams”

  1. Pen says :

    ((hugs)) About to respond to your email. Sorry it takes me so long. I suck. I’m here though ❤

  2. The Sound of Ed's Voice says :

    Oooo cycle!! ;] just think towards that couch!!

  3. ambivalencegirl says :

    I’m beginning to think that sleep is just as much work as real life and I’m so tired out from my dreams. It’s crazy isn’t it?! When I awoke at 1 am my muscles weren’t only sore but almost cramped because I was holding on or tense or something and it felt so real and I suppose it is but not really. And I’m very glad I don’t have your sleep difficulties as a few hours of it is more than I desire.

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