Thought I’d go to sleep last night. It’s sunrise and that didn’t happen.
Insomnia isn’t horrible. It’s the things we think about while we’re not sleeping. That’s the bother.
Got my nightmares back. Not happy or unhappy about that. I’ve heard it both ways. I miss the nice dreams. I don’t miss waking up from them. Strange terrors about running through long subterranean corridors and I wake up gasping like I’ve drowned aren’t pleasant, but I can’t complain because I wake up to something better.
The tsunami is always present in my nightmares. It consumes the city and the growing fields. In my earliest dreams, when I was three or four years old, I felt the nausea of the seawater in my lungs. I don’t know why it’s always there. Like the world is slipping away. Like beauty is being swallowed by the water. And all I can see is fear-soaked eyes of resignation and terror.
But I wake up. Though it doesn’t ever really feel like I’m awake. Like I’ve escaped it. It follows me. I’ve tried to write about it, but the details slip away like the cold waves from the shore and I find myself breathing heavily and unable to type when I try to remember.
I love the ocean. But I hate it. I long for it, and I’m afraid of it. None of it makes sense.
It’s been a long day(s). I should try to sleep. If I can.
-Eddy
Talk Me To Sleep 