Death

It’s 3 a.m. again. I woke up from another death dream, and at this point I’ve died so many ways in the last few weeks that anyone who says dreams don’t mean anything is lying. The worst part isn’t even the dream itself, it’s what comes after. I can’t fall back asleep for at least an hour, so I get up, drink some water, eat something small, watch a little TV, and wait for my nervous system to stand down. It’s exhausting and frustrating, like my brain refuses to let the night end quietly. Lately it feels less like my mind is trying to scare me and more like it’s trying to tell me something has reached its limit, that something needs to end.

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