I woke up in the middle of the night, big gulp of air chocking my throat and a foggy brain.
My thoughts were swirling around the dream that I had to bring myself out of. I’m not good with reality checks, unless I’m at the bottom of the most anxious nightmare, then I can finally tell myself this is not real life, because real life doesn’t suck this bad. You’re in bed. You’re asleep. And now you’re awake.
I reached for my phone to check the time. It was only 4 in the morning. Now you’re really awake I thought. The fog had dissipated and the unpleasant sensations the dream had produced where only a vague pressure on the chest. But still lingered, almost threatening me with the promise that if I did close my eyes and went to sleep again it would come back, picking up right where it had left.
I was cursed with the painful realization that in the morning when it was actually time to get up and leave my happiest place, although not free from mental contamination and nightmares, I would have to use whatever little energy I had to be angry and miserable, and my eyes would ache all through the morning, and every word I didn’t speak would be of absolute hatred to every single person that I had to interact with.