I sleep when I’m sad. Cry and sleep. It stops my brain from talking, whirling, working. I can’t pick at myself if I’m not awake. I can’t think. I switch off.
In my dreams;
I can get lost in a future that’ll never be.
I can dream of what I think love feels like.
I can dance to the beat and find I have rhythm.
I can have a career and be successful.
I can run, walk then run some more – my stupid lungs no longer stupid but super.
I see my hands straight, pain free and one colour. No one stares at them. People hold them.
As my unconscious body lays in the foetal position – teddy bear in hand. I’m pain free. I’m happy. I’m lost in my dreams, far, far away from reality.
In my dreams I am a person. In reality a number and given the amount of medication I have to take I’m also a drain on resources. Hard on myself? – nah just realistic. It’s not like I’m going to get better. At best I’ll stay the same. So they’re keeping me alive but I’m suffering. My god I am suffering.
So I sleep.
I dream I have my dream job or home.
I dream of traveling to far away beautiful places.
I dream of going for a nice walk.
I dream of keeping up with my friends… Man I love them all so frikkin much.
I dream of daredevil things like parachuting.
My unconscious body is wrapped tightly in a fluffy quilt to emulate being held. A long, caring hug.
I dream of helping other people in every way possible
Hair. Instead of alopecia being my friend, I dream of having lovely healthy hair. Even a ponytail.
I dream so damn much I don’t want to wake up but GERD (http://www.webmd.com/heartburn-gerd/guide/reflux-disease-gerd-1) ‘kindly’ sees me choking my way back to reality.
So yes Mina’s in bed sleeping again. It’s the closest thing to death – when I’ll truly be free.