' Oh Why Must Each Hoped-for, Pleasant Night...'

‘ Oh Why Must Each Hoped-for, Pleasant Night Be Torn Asunder With Hellish Dreams, Instead?  ‘

04/05/12

To my very, dearest, and sweet friends, and both kind, and constant, ever-loyal readers, I first want to speak to you of my complete thanks, and gratitude for your befriending me, and…abiding with me, even when my complaints of wracking pain, or nerves, or want have doubtless become too tedious; for you have great pain yourselves, or mental heartache, or despair, or of financial want equally as oppressive

Yet, in full demonstrating your patience, love, and support of me; and, in reading my diary posts with some regularity, how much you elevate my heart.  And it is to you, my dear, dear friends I ever hope to be a willing ear, to be ever ‘there’ for you when you might need me most.

While I will not bore you with shadowy details, as the recollection of horrid dreams was of possible interest, only to those—in ancient times—who visited the ‘ Oracle Of Delphi ‘, to be given a shouting, screaming, weeping session of hallucinatory dream interpretation as it might apply to future successes in battle, or in life.  And thus, emulating Cassandra’s gift of foresight, ‘dream-reading’ is highly speculative, very subject-influenced, and now often, the province of dream dictionaries, or of two-bit fortune tellers.

Plus, as an added bit of trivia, some time ago, it was discovered that the river that ran beneath the ‘Oracle’ contained a natural hallucinogen, which I am sure made for some very, interesting prognostications; yet, the ‘Oracle’ was well-known, and feared; its garbled readings were surprisingly correct.  But they were to a most subjective audience who could interpret their meanings any way they secretly wanted, and that—alone—skewed the Oracle’s correct predictions of the future.

Today we are still very much influenced in our regards to dreams from the work of Sigmund Freud…that, the subconscious is the source of dreams, usually recapitulating the frustrations, desires, needs, and problems of the day, in a sort of metaphoric ‘short hand’, so that they could be worked upon for resolution by the conscious mind while at rest.

But there are, my dearest friends, so many kinds of dreams, so that they occupy different subsets within a dreaming whole.  And if the source of all these nocturnal thoughts is the primitive brain, it is now overwhelmed by other concerns than securing food; finding a mate; reproduction; safety; and the successes of the hunt.  Now, in a broader sense, new subconscious ‘anxieties’ have been thrown into the game.  Such modern issues as the societal consideration of illness; the need for medication; the lack of funds; the attempts to find, and keep a job, no matter how we may personally loath it; the worries of living a sub-par life on current Entitlements; trying to keep the house out of foreclosure; keeping the family car wheezing along; the fears of growing crime, and the ‘Fate Of Nations’. While most may find a root in more primitive fear, there is yet more than enough to be the wellspring of utterly hellish nightmare, which does not so much ‘problem solve’, but rather finds its course in disrupted, broken sleep, headaches, middle-of-the-night continued worries of the day, which are worries every day.   And, frankly, all the subconscious can do is throw shit at it.  And make one tired and exhausted all the next day.

While I have addresses the subject of ‘Nightmare’ in other posts, last night, was one of unalloyed horror, as nightmare cascaded into nightmare, like some retrospective of the works of Stephen King, and others.  Dreams that disturbed, destroyed any chance of rest I might have had, gave me a rollicking headache somewhere around 1:30 AM; and in a state of such shallow sleep, with bathrooms calls thrown in, I feel—this morning—as if I had stayed awake the entire night, underscoring agonies of pain, even though I took extra pain medication, AND, and an extra sleeping pill.

Whether this tendency to nightmare is abetted by my illnesses, my singular loneliness, my continual financial problems, my medications (a likely suspect, owing to their side-effects, a near-empty pantry (and all, so early in the month!), I do not need my subconscious to ‘nail bite’ me into being often—really—too tired and mind-fogged with despair to even try to problem-solve during the day.  I fully know that the difficulties of life will still there upon the morrow.

Sometimes, even a major life-altering problem can be solved, if dealt with in small, discrete, and solvable steps.  Some problems know no solution, while others quite depend upon the so-so, transient, unreliable intervention, and assistance by others, or outside agencies who may not simply give a damn about your needs and problems. And, to having to rely on these most unreliable things is the surest path to folly and frustration.

My previous day had not been remarkable by any immediate disaster, yet those accumulated ‘disasters’ remain. There was no parting of golden clouds, while angels descended carrying wads of cash.  And yet my often and unutterable pain, depression, agoraphobia, and other ‘woes’ must somehow cloud my nighttime sleep.

And when—at last—I locked the doors for the night, left lights on in the house, whistled for my dear Daisy to come into my bedroom to curl-up upon the rug next to my bed, and having medicated for the night, and having had a blissful shower, and clean, crisp linens, and a fragrant room, I slipped into bed, tired, and wanting only to sleep.

After having said my jumbled prayers, closed my eyes to let my body relax as much as it could, so I could hopefully drift off—and with unbroken sleep—awake today with some much-needed sense of recuperation and allowing mind, body, and soul to seek its rest.

Instead, my needed sleep was broken into a hundred pieces by nightmare that panicked, unsettled, and disturbed.

And no…one nightmare did not seem enough, for they assailed me all through that restless night.  Each one was a tortured mix of people, events, and monsters.  And this is almost every night, so that I need some kind of nap in the afternoon—which seems—somehow—bereft of horrors, in order for me to halfway function the rest of the day.

Perhaps, my dear, dear friends, and gentle readers, that you might kindly comment if you have the same trouble; and—if so—what effective steps were you able to take to rid yourself of unending and terrible nightmare.

I really want—and need—to sleep.  The occasional ‘happy’ dream would be more than welcome.

Meanwhile, please allow me to wish for you days of lessened, or of ‘no pain’; freedom from want or care; surrounded by those who truly, truly love you, and care for you; quiet afternoons that bring you satisfaction, and—yes—delight, because you well-deserve it; and nights…oh, soft and gentle nights of blissful, and restorative sleep, kept in the care of blessed angels.

And, please always know, I love you dearly,

‘Zahc’