Well, not really analyzing my dreams. More about what a day in the life of the zombie is like.
Anyone who hangs around me for any amount of time will find out that I have sleep disorders. Multiples. Additionally, they will hear about the memory loss from a rather isolated portion of time. Not really full on, but more like the stories I remember from those years are like things I have read in a book. Nothing I have any connection to, as if I had really been there. These two elements are important to my story today.
I wake several times a night – usually 2-3 times before I actually get up. This can be anything from a call of nature to a noise getting me up. The new puppy (okay, she’s almost two, but she’s like a sleepy puppy most of the time) is restless so will get up from a dead sleep to walk around a bit and lay back down. Add in that I am convinced something else is in the condo, and I sleep rather lightly. While I cannot say without a doubt there are no ghosts, I recognize I have neighbors. This means I am more than likely just hearing them. Though at 2am that is a tough sell.
We had a rough night this week. With another polar vortex of sorts hitting us (wind chills hitting around -30 as a low), not only did the agoraphobic dog not want to go out to do her “business,” it was quite dangerous for her to do so. Her feet would become painfully frozen pretty quick – especially since the booties we got her won’t stay on. Seriously, she has paws like little spears. Nothing for them to stick to. All this leads to anxiety, which in turn leads to me not sleeping well. Which leads to more issues with waking at every sound.
I joked about how a puppy is no longer cute when she wakes you by stepping on your face. That was the one that lead to me giving up the ghost and getting up. My wife plopped her on the bed next to me and “squish”. Before that though, I was woke from a dream. I don’t suffer night terrors or the like, but it is normal for a dream to pop me awake. Especially when there is an action element to it.
The past couple of nights it has been a dream about one of the things I only barely remember from those years – the first time I broke my ribs. It was a spinning back kick that I walked into during a tournament. It had literally ripped two ribs on the upper right side of my chest from my sternum. Technically not a break, but it still related to floating ribs. That they didn’t initially show up on an x-ray lead to them not healing correctly (and a couple weeks of hell during sparring practices).
While not as bad as the dreams ending with an abrupt stop at the business end of a dumptruck, it was jarring enough that the adrenaline boost from it kept me from going back to sleep for a while. My wife feels like she hasn’t slept when she remembers her dreams… for me it’s a little more literal. But the bright side was that I now have a bit more strong of a memory of something I had lost previously.