There are few things worse than awaking at 3:05 in the morning from a particularly disruptive dream, spending the next few minutes genuinely believing said dream really happened, and then spending the next 15 minutes coming to the realisation that although you’re reasonably certain it didn’t happen, it was still disturbing and real enough that you have to take some time to get over it.
But there is at least one thing worse, and that is waking up at 4:15 and doing it again.
What doesn’t help at all is when the nightmare is, ahum, entirely sexual. I’m going to disappoint you now as I can’t quite remember the details, even though they seemed clear as day in the gloom of 3:05 and 4:15. I think it involved more people and implements than is strictly traditional. Also, I don’t think I was me. Maybe my disturbance stemmed from the crushing revelation that I wasn’t not myself after all. I can’t remember.
For some reason, which may or may not be related, I now have “Love Shack” stuck in my head. It is difficult for me to imagine a future that does not involve frequent renditions of “Love Shack”.
If I wasn’t insane before…