Dreams.

You have the craziest dreams with Fibromyalgia and M.S.  Once you've actually beaten through insomnia, you have crazy, intense dreams.  Then your Fibro Fog is so bad, you often wonder if it was just a dream, or if it really happened.  Most often it was just a dream, though it's very hard to differentiate the two.  Take for example this morning.  I am up at four thirty in the morning writing this.  Insomnia has me so plagued, I cannot sleep, no matter how I try.  As I lay quiet in my bed, I gently rub my neck.  All of a sudden this triggers a memory.  What I feel is a memory.  Me sitting in a doctors office.  Being told my Goiter is so large, it will have to be surgically removed.  I remember a doctor touching my neck, feeling around, looking very alarmed as he sizes my neck up.  He looks very worried.  Next thing I know, he tells me I need surgery to remove it.  Laying in bed tonight, the flashback plays through my head.  I quickly feel for my Thyroid.  It is not enlarged.  Was that just a dream?  It can't be.  I remember being there.  I remember feeling it.  I remember the fear, the emotions.  There's no way that was just a dream, but sure enough, the proof is in my neck; no enlarged Thyroid.  It had to have been a dream.

There are so many circumstances where I have to think hard; did this really happen?  Did I have that conversation with my mom?  There have been far too many times I ask my husband, "was it a dream, or did I...?"  "Was it a dream, or did we talk about...?"  "Was that just a dream, or did it really happen?"  He's about the only thing that can keep my reality and my dreams separate.  Then I'm like, "oh yeah, you're an M.S.ed cripple.  You're bed ridden, how could that have happened when you don't even leave the house all that often?"  :)

Studies show that men tend to have more sexual dreams, load of crap, my dreams are far more sensual than my husband's, and that women tend to have more intense dreams.  Being chased, getting stuck, dealing with something scary, or something we're trying to resolve in the waking world.  This I can agree with.  When I'm not making passionate love to Mr. Darcy, my dreams are the scary intense ones.  It's funny, I can only have raunchy dreams, or incredibly frightening dreams.  There is nothing else, and there is nothing in between.  Sex or fear.  I do have to admit, those are two topics that are always on my mind, so in a sense, that makes perfect sense.  The fear though.  Those dreams suck.  I am always being chased, someone is always in danger, I am always fearing for my life.  I like the dreams when what's chasing you is continuing at a normal rate, yet all of a sudden, your legs are heavier than lead.  You're stuck in time, trying desperately to run, while your fear is quickly gaining on you.  Hate those dreams!

Regardless of the dream path I go down, I dream so incredibly hard, I even act them out.  I've had sex in my sleep.  Didn't wake up until we were WAY into it.  Sorry for the visual.  I've tried climbing out the window to save my family from someone trying to shoot us, I've walked around the house, looking for rapists.  Funniest, but not so funny dream story, is trying to kill my husband.  I tried to kill my husband when I was sleep walking, shortly after we married.  No kids, blissful newlyweds, and what did it take?  Batman.  The movie Batman.  That was it.  If I watch an intense movie, it's a guarantee I'll act it out that night.  Sure enough, I was Batman, my husband was a bad man, someone who needed to die, just like the movie.  I was looming over his body, hands in the air, ready to bring a pretend knife down into his chest.  He woke up, feeling me there, and told me to go back to bed.  Thank goodness, even though still asleep, I listen to what I'm being told.  I went back to bed.  Thank goodness I listen, and thank goodness my mind doesn't think about grabbing a kitchen knife.

It's so interesting how the mind works.  Although none of us are as bright as we'd like to think we are, our minds are pure genius.  It can hold and retain sooooo much information.  It never ceases to amaze me.  Although I couldn't tell you what happened five minutes ago, my mind will find random times to remind me of something it stored away, many, many years ago.  Take for example another dream I had.  I lay sleeping in my Florida home.  Mind you, I have never lived in Florida, and my mind pieced together a very real home.  I can still tell you every detail of my room in that house.  Maybe I saw an image of a room, details all coming together that my mind has stored away?  I don't know, but it was as real to me as any experience I've ever had.  I can feel the warm summer breeze coming through my screen sliding door.  It's dark, late at night, and I am asleep.  I had read in the newspaper earlier that day that Ted Bundy had escaped from prison.  This all took place in the 1980's, too.  I remember the horrible peach paint on the walls, a sure sign of the 80's.  The 80's Hawaiian print often found on bedspreads, like mine had.  It was very peach and teal, very 80's.  I knew this was the time period I was in.  Although I was only born in the 1980's, I was a full grown woman in my dream.  I am sleeping peacefully, when all of a sudden Ted Bundy opens my screen door.  Ted Bundy is in my room, with a most evil look on his face.  I know I will die.  This dream is so very real.  It's so incredibly intense, it forces me awake.  I am so terrified, Ted Bundy doesn't even come towards me.  I force myself awake the moment he enters my room.  Here's the skin prickling side of the story; I had no idea who Ted Bundy was.  In my dream, I knew he would rape and murder me, I knew he would bring me harm.  I was terrified of this man.  I wanted to know why.  The moment I woke up, I Googled Ted Bundy.  Why my mind would bring me such a specific name, especially one I wasn't aware of, puzzled me.  Turns out there is a real Ted Bundy.  Turns out he was a most evil man.  Rapist, murderer, kidnapper, and necrophile.  I got shivers up and down my spine.  I have never even heard of this man, yet my mind brought him to me in a dream.  Just now, as I was Googling him again, just to make sure I was spelling his last name right, I got shivers all over again.  I never understood why my dream took place in Florida.  I've been there maybe twice in my lifetime, and like I said, never lived there.  This just happened, that as I looked up his name to spell it correctly, I read  he was electrocuted from a death sentence in Florida.  I thought this dream's shock was over for me.  Who knew the connection between Florida and my dream?  I had no idea, until just five minutes ago, that that's where Ted Bundy was imprisoned and killed.  Eh, chills all over again.  The point I am making is how amazing the mind is.  I called my brother, absolutely horrified, and told him I had no idea who Ted Bundy was, but that I had dreamed he was going to rape and murder me the night before.  My brother and I often have deep, thoughtful conversations, and dreams have always fascinated us.  This one was most interesting.  He mentioned how amazing the brain is at retaining information.  It was most obvious that my subconscious memory had heard about Ted Bundy somewhere.  Even as a small child, I may have overheard a conversation about him, maybe not even aware my brain was taking notes.  It is absolutely chilling, and fascinating how our memories work.  That's why it's not all too shocking when I can't tell the difference from reality and the dream world.  My subconscious is hard at work.  Manifesting things to me that I already know.  Somewhere.  Even if my conscious mind isn't aware of things that far embedded, it's obviously coming from somewhere.  How fascinating, really.

As I sit here, dealing with my ridiculous insomnia at five fifteen in the morning, I wonder what my mind will pluck from obscurity when sleep finally claims me.  There are times I am terrified of drifting off.  My dreams are a frightening place to be, and I'm not always brave enough to face them.  Sometimes I look forward to them.  Mr. Darcy, anyone?  Either way, my dreams aren't something I can escape.  My mind is obviously trying to deal with something.  As terrifying as they are, as unrealistic as they are, I am still stuck asking, "did that really happen, or did I dream that?"