A Hell of a Day

Just when I think I’m making good progress, just when I think things are improving and I’m finding my way through this mess… I have to have a nightmare from hell that brings it all crashing down. Last night I was once again visited by the demons of restless sleep. And this time they brought with them a series of nightmares that perfectly aggregated all manner of fears one can experience in their dreams. And I mean every possible one. It began with a performance I was helping put together, which I find out last minute I am supposed to sing for. With no time to rehearse, of course the performance goes awry, as I forget the words and they play the wrong song anyway. Throw in a failed bathroom search and naked-on-stage moment, and you’ve got the ultimate stage fright case.

In a cold sweat I woke up again and again as the nightmare wore on. And each time I managed to calm myself back to sleep, I was somehow magically transported back into the same world of terror, so that the whole night became this one extremely long, extremely choppy, extremely terrifying dream. And I did say it included all imaginable elements of a nightmare, so shall I name a few more? Let’s see, there was the point when what seemed to be all of my childhood friends (who had come to see the performance) told me they all thought I was unbearably annoying, and had all always thought so, though no one had ever told me. I’m then joined by ex-boyfriends just as they include that they think I’m a huge slut, who will sleep (and has slept) with anyone and everyone.

The night wore on in similar fashion until the relief of morning finally came. And at 7am, exhausted but unable to bear anymore, I willed my body up to get the day going. Now you know the saying, ‘woke up on the wrong side of the bed’? Well this morning, you could have illustrated that phrase with a picture of me. It was all I could do to hold myself together, and not scream in anger and frustration at everything around me. Thankfully, the ever-cheerful Becky was there to keep me on track. So instead I channeled that emotion into being productive. I had quite a few errands needed running down in the south bay, so I moved quickly to prepare what I needed and was just packing up my car with it all, when the icing fell splat on top the cake.

I foolishly put down my purse, with phone, keys and all, inside my car. And turning to get more stuff to load, the door swings shut and locks. It was brilliant really. How that all happened at once, I really can’t imagine. But nevertheless, it sent me into a tailspin. It was the last straw, the final nail in the coffin of what had been barely holding me together. And I lost it. Tears streaming down my face, I angrily kicked my car several times (I apologized later) and, leaving the remaining boxes by my car, fled back to my apartment.

Becky answered the door (since I’d locked my keys in as well), and quickly jumped into problem solving mode, helping me look up the number and call AAA for roadside assistance. We then waited together, her holding me through the fits of tears, until the truck pulled up. It was a matter of moments until all was better, and I was able to get in my car, thank Becky profusely, and set on my way down south. But despite the quick resolution, I was still excessively shaken up. So the whole way down to Mountain View became one long, blurry-eyed mess as I let out all the pain that had been building up in me since waking from that terrible dream.

I might have been embarrassed by such display, had I been able to see beyond my own anguish. But as it was, I managed to regain composure before arriving at my destination. And mustering all the courage I could, I launched into every single one of those errands. In the end, I’m proud to say I had quite a productive day, finally ending my hell of a day with awesome friends, great TV, and the softest robe I could ever dream of.

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