I’ve noticed a sleepless trend the last few months. To be more precise, it’s the inability to know how much sleep I’ve gotten or if it could be considered sleep. Most of my nights remind me of the one M*A*S*H episode of exhausted Hawkeye telling Col. Blake. “I had a dream that I was asleep and when I dreamt it I was awake!”
That’s been going on WAY too long lately, with a bit of a mix-up. If anything, what’s been happening is doing my daily routine in my head when I should be asleep, then I hear my alarm clock and wonder why I’m not at work.
I’m sleep-working on mindless office work and bullshit, going about a possible day. It’s like I’m analyzing the possibilities instead of giving the brain a break.
If I was giving it a break, don’t you think at some point Loki would show up to wreak havoc with those god-awful phone lines, entertain some kiddos for a bit, then take me out to coffee to teach me good pranks and magic? That’d definitely be a better dream.
I’ve lost the ability to escape into dreams somehow, and I’m not happy about it.
It’s no wonder I’m waking up irritable, stressed, and without ideas for my stories. Either it’s work or I replay scenes from my favorite movies and try to manipulate them and silence them in order to get decent sleep.
I don’t know what’s happened (and I’ve done all-night shifts before, so I don’t think it’s that). I think that honestly I’ve lost some imagination and ability to dream.
No wonder I haven’t put much thought into writing. Staring at the blinking cursor when my mind is one shrill scream of frustration isn’t my idea of a good time. Hell, when I flip through my morning pages, that’s exactly what they look like: work, work, work, to-do list of shopping and work. Where’s the stream-of-consciousness forays into weirdness beyond a to-do list.
I need to escape into books more this coming week and onward. I’m working on “The Night Manager” by John Le Carre, but with work it’s been slow going. Today, though, the weather’s perfect, and I’m going to go to the beach if I get off early enough. Just me, my towel, water, sunscreen, a floppy hat and a good book to read and relax to. There are some small ones near me I’ve never been to or heard of (and a “beach park” is better than nothing, if that’s the case).
It creeps me out that I’ve lost my ability to dream and to stop thinking, to rest and recuperate to the best of my ability. I think the only reason I get sleep at all is through exhaustion of tossing and turning. Ugh, not pleasant.
I want my dreams back so I can fuel my writer’s imagination again. Or maybe I should write dribs and drabs of utter crap in my journal so that my editor’s brain takes a peek, goes in the corner and cries, and comes out ready to fight.
Okay, how the hell did I get THAT visual.
Oh man–see, not even at work yet this morning and I’m having snippets of dreams at the wrong times!
And to think I stopped doing caffeine late in the day to promote better sleep. Maybe I need to start up on the melatonin supplements to help at night. I just suck at making it a habit.
Post-it notes to the rescue.
And maybe if this is some work-anxiety that’s manifesting itself in my sleep by making me work my desk job in my head over and over at night…I’ll be in in a little while to find out for myself and hopefully get over it.
Seriously, why am I focusing on work in my sleep?
Shouldn’t I be focusing on my fave heroes and villains in stories or films, and trying to snag a date with Loki, or at least hang out and laugh at human stupidity together over lunch?
Something? Anything. Anything other than WORK!?
(Sigh)…this is going to take MORE work to figure out. Dammit.
At least I’m going to jiu-jitsu tonight. Maybe that’ll physically wear me out enough that the brain will follow. Sometimes that’s the only option I have left…at least til my body’s itching to go again and start a new day.
And good books. Books that make me grin. More time for books. Yes.