Sleep and Dreams

I hate to be redundant, but I am still sleeping horribly.  The dreams are getting worse, and I keep waking up through the night.  Someone told me that it might be the effects of sobriety, and it’s possible.  It could be that I am self-destructive too.  Either way, today I start on a new path…the path to fix this insanity.

A friend suggested meditation, and it is something that I looked into before.  I did some research and found two books that are highly recommended for someone first entering meditation, and I can get them at my local library.  I’ve tried reading them before, but my anxiety was at an all time high and I couldn’t concentrate.  I should be able to now.  I plan on walking to the library this evening with my daughter to pick them up.

My husband suggested that I keep a dream journal on my nightstand to record my dreams when I wake up.  I like this idea because most times I can’t remember the dream, it just leaves me with an overly icky and restless feeling.  He jokingly said that if nothing else, it would be entertaining reading for my blog, but I also think it might show me a pattern.  If I can figure out the kind of dreams I am having, I might be able to work on changing myself, so I stop having them.

I remember last night’s dream.  It was horrible.  I have a cat (9 years old), who is quite obviously getting old.  He is rather crotchedy and not as spunky as he used to be.  He is also a behemoth and wheezes a bit from time to time.  I do worry that he is getting close to his last days.  Logically, he still has a lot of time left as he is very, very healthy, but I’m a doting, worry-filled mom.  He’s been with us since he was born and I love him to pieces.

In my dream, he was on his last legs, and for some reason, I didn’t take him to the vet to put him to sleep.  I decided that I was going to put him out of his misery myself.  I slit his throat, thinking that he would die there in my arms.  He didn’t.  He held on and wouldn’t die.  So instead of him just dying peacefully, he was in horrible pain and bleeding from where I cut him.

I woke up nauseous.  I got out of bed immediately, and went to look for him.  He was fine, sleeping.

The dream has stayed with me all day.  My interpretation of it (and I’m no expert) is that he is fine, healthy and will live for a long time yet.  Worrying about him dying soon is a waste of time, and will make my anxiety worse.

My hope is that my endeavors will help me finally get a good night’s sleep.  This is my new mission in life.

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