Pelgris

Today is Morgan’s birthday. She would have been 44. I’m sure she would still be ravishing.

But that’s not what I have to say today. I’ve been off, living my life, like she would have insisted. And, in the course of doing so, I’ve dated. My last breakup was about 3 months ago. It was an outlier relationship in that it effected me physically as well as emotionally. Specifically, it eased my anxiety and allowed me to sleep at least 8 hours straight through each night. That itself changed me. My depression faded, as it’s exacerbated by sleep deprivation. My health got better and I was not sick for a single day. Which is not to say I’m generally ill but I often feel out of sorts at least once a month.
So it showed me that many of my problems were sleep linked.

I’ve never been a sleeper. Most nights getting between 4-6 hours and crashing once or twice a week. Much of that was occupationally created. Waking up to any odd sound was a bonus in what I had been doing. And not needing as much sleep was just as useful. But my mind and body have paid the toll for that.

So, here I am, 3 months on. Traditionally when I start being better after a breakup. There is always those lingering pieces of why’s and what’s. And after 3 months you start to know, emotionally, that you will never know. So you take from it what you can. And what I can is that sleep is important to me. Which I knew mentally, but having never experienced the effects of sustained nightly ‘enough sleep’ over more than a week; I had no frame of reference. 

The last 2 nights I’ve managed enough sleep. Enough that the dreams are back. Enough that I’m traveling the skein of lives. And seeing what some me’s are living in. Last night’s me was burying mobsters in his back yard. Because he was somehow smart enough to be in charge of a criminal syndicate and dumb enough to bury bodies in his back yard. He was also married to a nice and oblivious woman who adopted kittens and kept bees. Most of the dream was his buying digging supplies and lye from a orange craftsmen store. And playing with kittens.

Dreams are weird.