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17 January 2013 @ 05:31 am
My mom and I were fighting. Something about me not living up to my responsibilities. I went to bed. I woke up just a little while later and all these storage boxes were on my bed, opened with various contents strewn across the bedding. The lights were on. I wandered around. It was our house in New York, but much more beautiful. I found my mom in the second floor hallway. I started yelling at her about waking me up. She turned to me and I realized her cheek was caved in. Just one side of her face. I took her to her room and had her sit in this beautiful burgundy satin brocade wingback chair. She was mumbling and incoherent. I cried and told her how much I loved her and missed her.

Awake. Sad.

I call it reverse insomnia. I sleep for a few hours and wake up, unable to fall back asleep. I will fight it for a while. That never works. I will involve myself in something (like now) and start to feel too tired to finish the task.

I intend to write more often. I intend to do a lot of things.
the houri in a handbasket: red in bednalidoll on January 17th, 2013 11:49 am (UTC)
It's called sleep-maintenance insomnia, as opposed to sleep-onset insomnia. I have both.

Dreaming about those who are gone is always such a strange and mixed thing for me. I feel extra guilty about anything unpleasant that happened, and sad when I know they aren't really there. And somehow glad to have seen them again, even just this way. But then I am left with all of the things I wish I had said, instead.
E. Quivocate: morphiemorphie on January 17th, 2013 11:54 am (UTC)
Yeah, that's pretty much exactly how I feel.