Tag: dreams

20 weeks…rambling

Today’s 20 weeks. Wee hours of this morning…moreso “last night” INTO “today” as I did not sleep that Wednesday evening. Couldn’t sleep after having just lost Dad.

Last night I wound up crashing earlier than usual…but then woke up around 12:28am to use the restroom and better situate myself (fell asleep with my shoes and socks still on, for one thing…had to get those off!).

I was still awake until after 2:30am.

Most of that time I was listening to Band of Brothers; my current audiobook-of-choice for overnight “sound.” Never expected or intended to specifically listen to over 2 hours of it, but that’s what happened.

Couldn’t sleep.

Didn’t want to lay in silence with my thoughts/etc.

Tried moving to a recliner, thought about watching an episode of CSI…but figured I didn’t want to fall asleep and then have it cycle through multiple episodes on me and screw up my ease-of-restarting-where-I-leave-off for binging the series. Learned my lesson weeks ago when I tried to fall asleep to a movie and ended up watching the whole darned thing to NOT try that. And I’ve been absolutely disgusted with general YouTube for all the ads (part of what set me on this CSI course the last month-plus: no ads! I’m 9 episodes into season 9 and NOT HAVING ADS has been FANTASTIC!)

Eventually I wound up laying down again, shifted a couple times, and somewhere in there I dozed off.

…and then woke up to Chloe-kitty getting on my pillow, trying to figure out where my arms were (under a sheet) so she could snuggle on my arm. And then back to sleep for several hours, eventually realizing I’d been hitting snooze for almost 50 minutes when I finally dragged myself up.

It still doesn’t always feel “real,” that Dad’s gone. And while I let myself into my own head like this–writing for this post–I almost feel guilty that it’s not actually forefront in my consciousness anymore; driving everything anymore.

I still recognize weekly that it’s been X number of weeks. At this point, that’ll probably be true through the end of the first year.

I imagine some might worry about me on that–worry about my posts expressing brokenheartedness or sadness or whatever months later; or for marking each week like this. And perhaps I give off certain vibes with that that could be misconstrued as some constant forefront of the mind state…when it’s not.

I’m sure I’ve locked up SO MANY feelings, held in more tears than are healthy, kept myself “distracted” enough…that it’s a coping mechanism for me TO mark the time.

20 weeks. How has it been THAT LONG?

Has it ONLY been that long?

What was totally unfathomable to me for just over 41 years of life came to pass that night in December…and somehow, I’ve kept going for 20 weeks. I’ve made it 20 weeks.

I definitely don’t sleep like I “used to.” While it’s still sometimes rare-ish to “keep dreams” with me past work, into an evening or beyond…I do wake up remembering dreams “in the moment” FARRRR more than any other time in my life that I can recall.

And while the details IN the dreams are almost always different, the general themese are the same…

I’m lost in some hotel trying to find my room that I was just recently in.

I’m in high school and trying to remember the order of my classes and which class I’m supposed to be heading to in the moment.

I’m in college realizing I haven’t been to a class all semester or done any homework and have to face the teacher, my parents, and myself in disappointment at failing the class. (and sometimes trying to FIND the classroom!)

I’m in high school and the bus just went by so I have to walk and be late, bike and probably be late, somehow get a ride and make someone else late, or drive myself without a license nor school parking pass (and probably wind up late).

I’m packing, I’m moving, there’s farrrr too much left to pack and clean and prep and there’s no time left.

Huge hotel like the one I stayed in with Katie and Tim back in 2015; or smaller 2-story Days Inn type place.

Eastlake North, several buildings at BGSU, or several buildings at Kent.

Math class, some kinda science class, Writing class, Sociology, all sorts.

Sometimes a nebulous future move; other times partial reconstructions of moving from the apartment back in 2016; or moving out of the Streetsboro apartment in 2008; often moving out of the Kent apartment in 2006; sometimes even the Bowling Green apartment in 2004.

Aside from the dreams, even the fact of waking during the night and having trouble going back to sleep. For most of my life it’s “always” been so easy for ME to simply “go back to sleep.” Whether having health issues and up multiple times during the night or just once (if at all)…use the restroom, go lay down, and typically be “passed out” again before more than a minute or two. Wake up to the cat crawling in to snuggle, feel her settle on my arm, feel and hear her purring, and then my alarm’s going off later.

Now it’s like if I wake up at all, I’m looking at at LEAST a half hour or more of wakefulness. Sometimes just blah and dreary and lay there without energy (as ought to be expected in the wee hours) but other times I get so restless that I often at least consider going downstairs and working.

I’ve become reliant on “noise” at night. Not so much “white noise” (a fan, a train, a thunderstorm whatever those white-noise-apps will offer) but a voice. I’ve fallen back on audiobooks with mixed feelings of late. I would often use Stephen King’s 11/22/63, Jurassic Park, or The Lost World. Sometimes an Aliens book, for awhile the Harry Potter books; often books in The Meg series. While not to the point of being able to recite the story to you in proper order off the top of my head, at this point I could probably contextualize pretty much any part of 11/22/63 within a couple sentences.

In the “before” I’d hardly catch more than 5-10 minutes of a book; maybe a bit would influence a dream or I’d gradually wake up to realize I was listening to whatever book. Now of late I’ve gotten frustrated with the repetition; trying to find parts of the books I’m less familiar with and don’t so consciously remember.

Not even sure where I’ve been going with all this rambling tonight. It’s 8:41 and I’ve yet to do dinner or really “veg out” yet. As I type, I’m debating both whether or not to post this stuff at all and whether or not to bother eating tonight at this point.

Probably “should” post, if only to avoid kicking myself later for squandering all this writing. Who knows.

20 weeks. Who but God knows how many more?

Some mental ‘vignettes’ of late

Went out for Free Comic Book Day last weekend. Spent more than I’d planned to, but snagged a bunch of X-Men comics, which I’m pretty sure leaves me missing a single issue from having The Uncanny X-Men #s 139-544!

Couldn’t help but get to thinking on the way home about having that conversation with Dad. He’d have been quite glad for me getting together with an old friend, as well as just my going out for FCBD at all. And in his own way, I’m pretty sure he’d have been fairly “impressed” at my haul…or moreso the “number,” that with the acquisition of just one more issue, I’ll have an over-400-issue “run” of the series. (My first-ever issue of the series was #300, that Dad bought for me!)

George Perez passed away that Friday. The ‘news’ (I hate this phrasing) came out Saturday DURING Free Comic Book Day, which (as many others have already said) seemed fitting for the man and a bittersweet thing and all that.

Some part of stuff with Perez is tied into Dad for me; as I’d shared previously in a post over on my comics blog.

Perez was given “6-12 months” in early December…and here we are only about 5 months later. I’ve “expected” the news…every time I’d see a post from his Facebook page, I’d wonder if it would be THE post…but it hasn’t been. It’s been good stuff about him being happy and comfortable, seeing people and being grateful, and I’d somewhat dropped my “guard” on that, and then saw a post yesterday and here we are.

I do feel like I’d be “hit harder” by his passing than I feel, except that it’s “nothing” (to me) against losing Dad only a little over 4 months ago.

Mom and I saw Dr. Strange in the Multiverse of Madness this afternoon. Good movie, some excellent stuff; and the first theatrical film I’ve been to since Dad. Paid off some of having Mom watch Wandavision last year, as well as Avengers: Endgame a couple weeks back; and Spider-Man: No Way Home a week or so before that.

And I did more “running around” this weekend than I have in recent memory. CNJ on Friday; Kenmore, Hazel’s Heroes, Half-Price Books, Comics & Friends, and Meijer Saturday. Walmart after the movie Sunday.

Used to be routine for me. Saturday especially, I’d go out “to get out” and whatnot. Knowing Dad and Mom and the pets were here at home and safe; and along with whatever stuff I’d get, I’d also touch base with them to make sure on whether they needed anything. Dad would often want iced coffee, chips, and/or something sweet. Too many times I put him off from the “milkshake from McDonald’s” because I hadn’t really been through a drivethru since the pandemic hit, and it’s like that was some dumb source of “pride” or such for me, akin to my “4-years of perfect attendance” in high school. (Since losing Dad, drivethrus are “back on the table” albeit hardly as frequent as 2+ years ago).

One thing in the Dr. Strange movie was this idea that dreams are our views into other universes and our counterparts there.

And as often happens, the weird way my mind works, that proved to be some fertile ground for a seed of thought.

My dreaming the last 4+ months has been on a whole different level from any other time in my life. I don’t remember a time before with so many recurring themes and “remembered” dreams and such in such a short span of time. And the way so many of those dreams have “cameos” of Dad…LIKE some tv show or movie, peeking into possibilities.

(Trust me when I say my phrasing here does not begin to do justice to my thoughts overall)

I’m not even sure what else to try to write right now. I’ve had loads of thoughts the last couple weeks…but never when I can write, and then the mind is so fleeting that when I’m at this particular computer or thinking to make notes, the thoughts flee.