I've made no bones about the fact that when I'm on an antidepressant, my dreams become very different. Sometimes they are so stressful that I've often wondered if the relief the medication brings to me is worth the dreams it also brings which in and of themselves are quite stressful and often cause me to wake up in a strange and extremely unsettled mood.
Last night I had two dreams which were so long and involved with color and with scent and with taste and with story line and with moments of fear that I really had nothing to compare them with.
The first one was the stranger and more complex and I figured out in the dream that it WAS a dream and that was interesting. As characters in the dream spoke, I could actually realize that I was the one directing their dialogue and sometimes it took me a while to come up with it. And some of it was simply horrible and the vast houses with the many undiscovered rooms were there and I was presented with messes to clean up and and falling-apart places in the house and although I KNEW it was a dream and kept reassuring myself that none of this was real, it was still disturbing. It wasn't until an extremely frightening situation in the dream occurred that I was able to wake up and I found my husband checking his phone to see what time it was so I suppose that his sitting up in the bed was what had actually woken me and I was so relieved although the very clarity and realness of the dream left me a bit unconvinced that I had truly woken up.
The second dream was not as worrisome but dragged on and on to no resolve, no resolution and I still, hours after getting up, feel a tiny bit disoriented.
I am listening to a book by David Mitchell who wrote The Cloud Atlas called Slade House and it has elements of dream-like reality and so I'm sure I was channeling some of that. It's a ghostly story and well-written and I'm enjoying it immensely but I do not want the elements of it to invade my sleep in such a way. Normally, it would not.
Anyway, that's the report this morning. It is gray and gloomy and my friend will be here soon and we'll be driving to a little town in Georgia to eat our lunch.
Brains are complicated things and I wish we understood them better. it is an unhappy conundrum to have to trade one form of insanity for another.