I’m Beautiful Like Me.

I hate dreaming. Have I mentioned that before? Well, I do. I feel sorta disconnected from myself and as though I have absolutely no control. Even if the stuff of dreams is “good.” But the last two nights, I have had bad dreams.

I can’t even recall what the dream from the night before last was about anymore, but I remember waking and being quite… hell, I don’t even know the right word. That would very likely be from me staying awake ’til damn near 6am this morning and waking 4 hours later from yet another nightmare. All I remember of this morning’s dream is my brother. First thing I did after brushing my teeth this morning was to call him. He didn’t answer. But - thankfully - he did just call back. I didn’t mention the dream, as we got into a bit of a tiff about two weeks ago and he sounded very grumpy. We haven’t yet made truce.

He says we suffer from Irish Alzheimer’s: forget everything but the grudge. This is very often true (especially in his case), but I’m pretty good at - at the very least - making an effort to make peace. So, I just said to him, “It’s a nice day to start again.” He responded in kind.

All the same, I still feel the residuals of the nightmare clinging to my foggy brain. I figure I’ll hit the sack again in an hour or two. With any luck, I will be blissfully dream-free.