I am not afraid, and I don’t even WANT to sleep (despite burning eyes, shaking hands, and a massive headache). I promise I’ll write a fluffy, light post about the nice things that have been going on in my life soon. Because, honestly, there have been some really great things happening when the sun’s up. The days are so sweet, lately, which only makes these hellish nights harder to handle.

The night-terrors are getting so much worse recently. The terror is lasting longer after I wake up, and I’m not able to shake off the cold as quickly. What kind of messed up mental issues do I have that would make me dream of sacrificing one of my children to save the others? I have a variation of that particular freak-out at least every other night now. Sometimes I’ll have variations on that same scene twice in one night if I actually lay down to try to sleep. What kind of torture am I living in that makes me watch my children die every time I fall asleep?

So, technically, I don’t have insomnia. I’m sleepy. Oh, I am so sleepy. I fight to keep my eyes open because I’m haunted. I’m afraid of sleep. There’s no pill for this, either. Sleeping pills will help with the deprivation, but I end up waking up even worse because I haven’t been able to escape the dreaming.

On a much better note, sleeping close to Dave definitely helps. The kids slept with Dave’s parents this weekend and I could get 2-3 hour stretches between the nightmares. Dave’s like a safe, light place that I can bury myself in till morning.

~L