Sweet Dreams?

(Serengeti, Tanzania: June 9, 2007)

Lately I feel like people have been divulging bits of information about themselves. It must be something about being in your thirties – suddenly you’re able to talk about some strange, quirky aspects of yourself or your past. Well, here I go, jumping on the bandwagon.

So many of you know this already – I have a rather strange sleep “disorder” let’s call it. Ever since I was 13, sometimes when I wake up, my dream continues even though I’m awake. It can take up to 15 minutes or longer for it to fade back to reality, even when I’m interacting with someone. Of course the dreams themselves at the point of waking are not pleasant, happy dreams with pretty fairies leading me through Candyland. They’re terrifying. The good news for anyone sharing a room or bed with me is that for the last 5-10 years I’ve mostly stopped screaming when they happen.

You can imagine the awkward discussion… “Yeah, so I kind of have this thing sometimes when I sleep. It probably won’t happen, but if I should scream out, don’t worry. It’s nothing - just ignore it.” Well, I can assure you that when it actually does happen with someone else in the room, no amount of prior warning prepares them. It’s just really freaky being awoken by someone screaming out in abject terror. Jon can now newly attest to this (hence the ‘mostly stopped screaming’).

This doesn’t happen when I’m home, and usually not in well lit rooms, either, but it’s been happening nearly every night of this trip unfortunately. Some nights it’s just waking to a person standing over the bed. Just lying there completely petrified with fear wondering how they got in and what they’re going to do. After 5 minutes or so they fade out. If the waking dream is being buried alive, I do try to physically get out. I’ve even tried to bite through a tent in the past – biting a zipper is no fun, I assure you. During that dream in Rwanda I just tore back a curtain. Not too bad! No harm done. Last night’s episode was a pretty cool dream though – looking back after the fact. The room we were in was balanced on a long round cylindrical object of some sort, under the middle of the room. So every time I moved in the bed, even an inch or two, the entire room tilted in that direction. This wasn’t the kind of tilting room that would just stop at some point either. It would fall over, come crashing down and crush me inside. So I would move a hand or a leg an inch, it would tilt wildly and I would wait for it to settle down, then move a little more, then quickly go back to sleep. Cool, huh?

I’ve met two people in my life who suffer from the same thing, neither knowing exactly why, but having a reasonable hypothesis. I think when I get back I’m going to look into some sleep disorder programs. I’m thinking after 21 years it could be time to get rid of this!