And People Wonder Why I Don't Sleep

So, about a week ago there was an advertisment on Craigslist. It was posted by a person looking for significant dreams to use in a project. I don't know what the project is-- I didn't ask, but I did email a series of dreams that I had to the person.

I'm sharing it here because even though I was saying "Holy Crap" to myself for weeks after it happened, writing it and reliving it... is something else.

Here is my email.

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I've always had very vivid dreams. Sometimes odd, sometimes scary, I'd wake up feeling as though if I tried hard enough I'd be able to tap into some odd alternative universe. In one dream, a black tree in the middle of the desert produced pearls the size of large oranges. In other dreams, I'd be sitting in the living room watching television and terrorists with machine guns would come and make mince meat of the sliding glass doors... and of me.

As bad as those were, this night was worse.

I don't remember the day. I don't remember what I fell asleep thinking about, what I watched on television. I don't remember if anything signigicant happened or if I had experienced a panic attack-- which I am, sadly, prone too-- all I remember is the dream sequence and waking up each time too scared to go back to sleep.

My heartbeat was racing. Blind. I was blind. No wait, blind-folded. My hands bound behind me. I could feel the cold barrel of the gun hitting my temple as if teasing me. Terror made my knees ache, the shaking rubbing them raw against the ground. I was going to die and I knew it. It was going to come soon. I heard the loud crack of the gun and my head suddenly ached as though someone with a large rubber band had just snapped it above my ear. Pressure. God, the pressure in my head was so intense I knew it was going to explode. I waited as it built higher and higher, tighter and tighter. And then... nothing.

I woke up and my heartbeat was thundering in my chest. Cold sweat poured down my body and I couldn't move. Too scared. Too shocked. Too stunned. I let my eyes focus around the room, letting the comfort of familiar objects help lull me back into a regular breathing pattern. Oh my God, I thought, I just had a dream where... I felt. Forget color. Forget being naked or running or whatever interpretation any book could give me! I had just felt my dream. My God, I know... I KNOW what it feels like to get shot in the head. And... it didn't hurt. Huh.

I lay back down, my pillow folded and scrunched underneath my face as I buried into the familiar lavender scent of the spray I used on the sheets and breathed deeply, attempting to drift back to sleep. I though about tropical oceans and sunshine, about hammocks swinging in the breeze surrounded by palm trees and went back to sleep.

The train is rocking back and forth making the stuggle all the more clumsy and ferocious. He's trying to kill me, the sharp blade of the knife angling ever closely to my person. I bear him no great harm, but will not allow him to get away. I'm meant to bring him... somewhere. Into custody maybe. There's a woman in the car with us. She's rooting for me, but I don't know what her business there is. Hostage maybe since she seems to be stuck, unable to help. Suddenly, the train jars forward and I fall onto my back onto the round table in the middle of the room. I'm holding the knife at bay above me, but winning the battle. His arm is bending back and I'm about to lunge forward and claim victory. However, it is not to be. The train suddenly jolts and the chandelier above me breaks. It takes a moment, but I realize why I can't breathe. Why there is liquid filling the back of my throat. Why the woman is now screaming. I see him stand, lower the knife, and look at me as sleep overtakes me and blackness fills the room.

This time, I came out of my dream more slowly. My eyes opened slowly and I looked around, grasping for a hold on time and place. As awareness comes to me, I can feel my heart start racing, chills running down my limbs. Panic freezing me imobile. Again, I had felt my dream. Again, I died and felt it. This time, however, I drowned on my own blood. My throat cut.

I rolled over and looked at my husband sleeping peacefully and then noted the time. 1:00am. It was still very late, or extremely early depending upon your taste. Either way, it was still time to be in bed. Using the same lulling devices that I had taught myself and picturing white sandy beaches, I calmed myself to sleep once more.

Running. Hiding. I'm hiding and getting ready to run. Bushes. I'm behind the bushes, but I need to get to the door. If I get there, I'm safe, but I don't know if I can do it. They are waiting for me. It's a race against time. How fast I can move vs. how fast they can move. I don't want to be captured. To my right, in the other row of bushes is a friend. He's hiding too, waiting for me to move. He's holding a gun, hoping for the first opportunity to fire. At them. He loves me. My fiance. Go. I need to go now! I take off running. Running. Fast. As fast as I can. But it is not fast enough. I hear the crack of gunfire and feel the punch in my back. Pushed down, I've been pushed down! But no... I've been shot. I've fallen to my stomach on the ground. I can see the bushes where my lover hides. My final vision of him hiding there in the place I know where to look... crying.

I woke up and it was still only 1:30am, but I'd had enough. It was one of quite a few nights where the dreams were so bad that I induced insomnia so that I wouldn't fall asleep again-- and I didn't. For four days.