This feeling . . .
I've been having weird horrific dreams lately. Always early Saturday morning between 3:30am and 4:30am. I wake up at 3:30 to eat oatmeal or a banana and yogurt. I choke it down, really, because it's difficult eating at such an early time. My body, reassured by the messages I send from within, consumes this food. I just need fuel. Need to digest before the run. I put my sports bra and special REI underwear on ("6 weeks in Europe, 1 pair of underwear" the packet said); it slips easily over anxious legs and then I climb back into bed.
It's around 3:45 then and I re-set my alarm to jar me from sleep at 4:30. In between the time my head hits the pillow and the time the alarm plays extremely loud music, I dream. Fitful dreams of stuffed, white teddy bears at the foot of my bed, pulling away the covers from me. I tug back and look; the face-so evil that it must come from those Chuky movies I used to watch when I was younger and thrilled by anything horror-glares back at me, and I'm instantly scared. The last dream had a doll, plastic, bald and wearing a white dress. She is on my bed climbing towards me, a terrible sneer. Why do I dream these dreams? And always before Saturday's run? I have no idea.
But today is Monday. I don't recall any such dreams last night; all day long I've felt almost an anxious anger bubbling beneath the surface. Anxiety, yes. Stress, yes. Maybe it's because today is what today is: the 11th. But on a day like this, I would think I'd want to be extra kind to those around me. But all I can do is think: LEAVE ME ALONE!
I want to leave the library to exercise this negative energy out of me. 3 more hours to go.
It's around 3:45 then and I re-set my alarm to jar me from sleep at 4:30. In between the time my head hits the pillow and the time the alarm plays extremely loud music, I dream. Fitful dreams of stuffed, white teddy bears at the foot of my bed, pulling away the covers from me. I tug back and look; the face-so evil that it must come from those Chuky movies I used to watch when I was younger and thrilled by anything horror-glares back at me, and I'm instantly scared. The last dream had a doll, plastic, bald and wearing a white dress. She is on my bed climbing towards me, a terrible sneer. Why do I dream these dreams? And always before Saturday's run? I have no idea.
But today is Monday. I don't recall any such dreams last night; all day long I've felt almost an anxious anger bubbling beneath the surface. Anxiety, yes. Stress, yes. Maybe it's because today is what today is: the 11th. But on a day like this, I would think I'd want to be extra kind to those around me. But all I can do is think: LEAVE ME ALONE!
I want to leave the library to exercise this negative energy out of me. 3 more hours to go.
