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Troubled sleep

More strange dreams, and more troubled sleep. I'm getting really fed up with the night terrors, or with simply being a restless sleeper, or whatever it is. I never wake up wearing the same things I go to sleep in. I keep waking up with the blankets all tangled and thrown away from me. I don't really know what's going on.

Yes, last night's dreams were bizarre. I'll share as much as I can remember and explain:

I was looking for an apartment in Wilkinsburg. I remember having a prevailing sense that my mother was not (or would not be) happy that I was apartment hunting in Wilkinsburg, and also being aware that I did not care very much. I remember thinking that I could find cheap housing there, and that that was all that I cared about.

I found a place on Penn Avenue that was really a vending machine (a soft drink vending machine, specifically)*. You had to open up the front of the vending machine to get to the layer where the apartments were. There were only two apartments, on the second floor. Two very elderly Jewish ladies lived in the one on the right, and I liked the idea that if I lived in the apartment on the left, I could be their protector. Because the apartments were in the upstairs of a vending machine, you could only enter them lying down; you could not stand up. Well, rather, I could not stand up; the little Jewish ladies could because they were to scale with the building being a building. I was to scale with the building being a vending machine (which, by the way, is the way that all of Penn Avenue was to me ... as if all of the buildings were the size of vending machines).

Then something switched (or else maybe this came earlier - who knows). I was in my parents' house, and my mother was trying to convince me to get rid of my couch. I had just moved back to Pittsburgh from Chicago and I was upset that she was already exerting her influence; trying to get me to do things (like get rid of my couch) that I would have never even considered doing if I were still in Chicago. This happened when we were on the second floor of their house, but then I was in the attic, in the room above my room, looking out into the backyard. The backyard was in Wilkinsburg again (see, maybe this part did come first) and there were lots and lots of couches out there ... old, funky 70s couches, and little loveseats ... and I remember this guy was smoking and he tossed his cigarette, skipped it like a stone, and it hit all the puddles on the ground, but managed to skip over the couches without setting any on fire. There was a homeless man toward the back, looking around for stuff, and I remembered thinking that the first man should have just given the homeless man his cigarette and let him finish it.

I suspect that there was more to this dream and, as I remember it, I'll come back and post more.

* It's also quite possible that said vending machine wasn't a vending machine at all, but was really that weird orange thing in the smoking section at Quiet Storm. It's a thing that defies explanation. If you've been there, you know what I'm talking about.


( 2 comments — Leave a comment )
Dec. 19th, 2003 03:12 pm (UTC)
Arghhh! I made think about my own mum this week and her influence in my life. I recently got badgered into redecorating my living room wall by my mum this week. It didn't bother me half as much as it bothered her. Why oh why? I had nightmares last night as well but I suspect that might have something to do with the fact that I have been skivving off my homework for this week. I HATE homework over the Christmas holidays!
Dec. 20th, 2003 05:09 am (UTC)
I've been having simillar problems -not the dreams mind, but the waking at wierd hours at night. and not getting back to sleep. Pain in the kiester. Probably my own fault for sleeping on the couch most nights. Thank god for cable.

( 2 comments — Leave a comment )

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