Last night was one of those 3:30am nights. Awake, mind already racing at full speed, rehearsing, rehashing. I hate those nights.
I usually sleep well so when I don’t it feels especially abrupt and intrusive and disorienting. And it sometimes means maybe, just maybe, I need some decompression and download time I’m not giving myself, so my mind takes over in my sleep when my defenses are down. I was up for a while, trying to breathe and listen to my rain sounds app, then, when that didn’t work, trying to zone out to the background of familiar Friends episodes until a fitful, anxiety-dream-filled sleep set in from about 5:30-8am.
When I told my husband about the stew of dreams that rushed in during that time, he said I managed to include every major anxiety-inducing situation. Why, yes, I did. One dream included our home’s roof leaking in two places, the discovery that a small child used one of our vases as a toilet, and realizing after lounging unshowered in my pjs all day that I had one hour to be dressed and at a wedding. I made it to the wedding in question, where I was not the clergyperson presiding but where I was supposed to pray before a meal. I stumbled as I started the prayer, stopped myself, and said, “I’m just going to start over.” Then, as I gathered my thoughts in a moment of silence and was about to open my mouth to try again, the clergyperson I didn’t know who was officiating the wedding – Generic Priest Collar Dude – jumped in and just slapped out the prayer himself.
Luckily, my husband had the coffee ready when I woke up.
My autistic stepson Blair sometimes has trouble sleeping straight through the night so I’ve taken to gently telling him, when he comes for his good night hug right before bed, I hope you have a good, long sleep. I hope you have beautiful dreams and you rest and sleep all the way until morning when it’s time for everyone to wake up. And in the morning, we’ll say “Good morning!” and give you another hug.
Even when I know things have built up and I need decompression and meditation, I’m not as good at saying similar things to myself. Today, as the dreams recede, I’m hoping a swim in the sun and the space of an afternoon off can help where words seem lacking.