I had a recurring dream when I was growing up. I would dream that I couldn't move. That I was helpless, that I couldn't escape. I would wake, wet from sweat, and would discover all of my many sheets and blankets from my bed wrapped and entwined around my legs. Interesting enough (or maybe not so much) when I moved out of my parent's house and loosened the ties of abuse I had been encircled by for years, my dreams stopped. For the main part. My recurring dream was replaced by night terrors for about a year and a half. At night I would re-live my childhood-prison, but as time passed, so did the terrors.
Remember my poop flinging cat? I'm happy to report he has adjusted quickly and smoothly to his sweet life outdoors... hunting, stalking, rolling in the dirt. My only complaint is now my sole kitty left indoors in lonely, and has decided that she should be my bed-time companion nights. I can't say that I would normally mind, but this little kitty had decided her favorite place to sleep is on top of my ankles at night. Which.I.Hate. I hate, hate, HATE it, because it reminds me of that same feelings of being trapped. I hate my legs feeling constricted. I've woken up the past few mornings feeling irritable and irrational. Blast from the past, if you will.
So, my plan of attack? A swift boot to the kitty at night. So inhumane sounding I know, but the price to pay for my sanity? I think she'll get the hint soon. **hanging my head in shame.... while giggling**
Friends, send sweet dreams my way. Stat.