The night terrors are back with a vengeance. It has been a while and I thought I had put it behind me, but for whatever reason, I haven’t been sleeping well lately. The dreams are vivid, far too vivid for my liking and it seems as though I am caught up in one of my own novels, being pursued by faceless characters I created, running for my life.
I suppose this is the price to pay for being a novelist writing a psycho-thriller and getting caught up in this virtual reality. It has gotten to a point where I am afraid to close my eyes on some nights, fearing whatever dreams might come. I can’t even blame it on Netflix or some other channel where I might have absorbed some of the scenes. Life is just nightmarishly complicated.
The bizarre thing is that my two cats sense something is rotten in the state of Denmark, and have taken to sleeping by my side. Usually they jus settle down on the bed until I fall asleep and then saunter off to their own corner of the flat, but not of late. They stand (OK, snore) guard and are quick to perk up if I wake up hyperventilating. The two grannies will be right beside me, purring, and if it gets bad, Cherry will sit on my chest until I calm down.