I should probably just stop sleeping
Last night, I had a horrific nightmare that I walked into the bathroom and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror – and my lips had a hard extra layer on them, almost black, like an avocado rind. I had to peel them off – two big lip-shaped pieces – to get back to my normal pink smackers.
It wasn’t as bad as the time I dreamed that I…
You know what, I can’t even say it. If I wrote what happened in this dream, I can guarantee that no one would ever come back to this blog again. Some images get burned into the brain forever – and as much as I wish for someone to bear this burden with me, I won’t do it to you. I will martyr myself on the altar of nightmares for your sake.
Don’t say I never did anything for you.
But seriously – what is going on here? WHY am I having these horrible dreams? I don’t watch horror movies. I’ve never witnessed true atrocities. And yet, I go to sleep, and am transported to being the central figure in an episode of “Rescue 911.” The freakshow edition.
Maybe I’m spending too much time alone.
If left to my own devices, I would hang out by myself all the time.
No, really. All the time.
For the past 6 months or so, I have spent most of my free time alone. As an introvert, time to recharge is important – but when does it become too much? When does the self-care become selfish? When does the coddling result in an inadvertent snapped neck?