I suffer from chronic, abusive mental anguish that infiltrates my most precious moments of the day, my sleep. I wake up in a panic at times trembling with what goes on when I’m underneath the covers (and no I’m not a pubescent teenage boy). I am a grown woman who is still convinced there might just be monsters under the bed, and if I dangle my foot off the edge there will be, for sure, a giant eel-like, snake eating creature that will tear it off and pull me under. Whatever happened to lullabyes and “Good Night Moon”. Instead its like “Oh shit, here we go.” I hope I survive another round of sleep. There is no real rhyme or reason to my nightmares. For instance, last night I dreamed that I had to throw a bunch of tiny black squirmy fish with giant teeth into a tank of water without being bitten. When I finally did get them in, they turned into little miniature Broadway dancers, so I guess there was a happy ending. Weird yes, but at least there was dancing involved. The recurring Shark dreams are always a treat for me. It never fails that there is some kind of pool or lake I have to swim across while dodging enormous great white sharks that make Jaws look like a goldfish. I don’t know why I am so nocturnally tortured, everyone else I talk to has great dreams…they’re flying high above the world, they’re making out with Brad Pitt. So why am I stuck with these horrible visions that leave me feeling exhausted and downright freaked out? Maybe it’s like nighttime paranoid schizophrenia. At least people don’t have to know that I am crazy (until now). I keep it nice and hidden, right beneath my sheets.
