For the first time in my life, the line between my dreams and reality was lost. I laid still as voices whispered, figures faded, and walls solidified. Several seconds passed before I could tell you where I was. Then the panic hit and I was wide awake, leaping from my bed, checking to see if all was as I had left it when I went to bed. Are all the children here? Are there any police?
I stepped outside to cool off and calm down. I lit my cigarette and texted my night owl friend. It was 11:40 pm. "I'm sorry that it's late or if I'm waking you up, but I went to sleep thinking about everything that's been happening in my life & had a nightmare that was so real and so current that when I woke up my room wasn't real & I had to convince myself that it was a dream." My friend replied, "About what?" and "Are you ok?"
I am the person that emotionally distressed people come to for stability. I am their rock. I never panic in the moment of a crisis. I am used to being the one that is there for everyone. I'm not used to people being there for me. So, when my friend asked if I was ok, I lost it. I started sobbing on my front porch in January. Between the tears and the cold, my glasses fogged up and I could no longer see my phone to text. I managed to calm down enough to text, "Can I call you?"
We talked at length about my life and all the events leading up to the nightmare. I started to recognize a pattern that I didn't like. A pattern that landed a friend of mine in jail just two months earlier.
