Tag Archives: insomnia

What have I been smokin’?

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Nothing, but you wouldn’t know it from the dreams I’ve had the past few days.

I am always a vivid dreamer, but lately, I wonder what in the hell is going on inside my subconscious. I won’t even go into last night’s strange, fragmented dreams – they were too weird to pass on to the world.

The night before, however, is a different story. I’ll give you the cliff notes version (because, honestly, no one ever wants to hear another person’s dreams, unless you happen to be a psychic or something).

My husband and I were in a big building not far from where I used to live in Hollywood. People were everywhere, seeking shelter from an outbreak of some sort (I referred to it as zombies when I relayed this to my husband, but that really wasn’t what they were. They looked just like people, but whenever they opened their mouths, four incredibly long, dark purple tongues shot out. My husband said it sounded more like an invasion of the body snatchers than zombies). Anyway, the zombie/body snatcher people made it to this building where we hid, and everyone had to evacuate. My husband and I got separated, and outside, people kept telling me I had to leave anyway, but I refused. Just as the hysteria reached critical mass, a group of people ran from the building, and my man was among them.

Cool, now I could go.

So the plan was that we were all going to run to Lancaster, which seems like a crappy plan, because it’s like 60 miles away from Hollywood. That is a long way to run. Anyway, my husband told me he was going to go ahead of the group and scout things out. Suddenly he was in track shorts. You know how, at the Olympics, they shoot the gun or sound the buzzer or whatever, and all the track people take off like bats out of hell? Their legs move quicker than you’d think was humanly possible? Well that’s how my husband look as he ran off – all I could see was ass and elbows. When I tried to follow, I discovered I couldn’t run. Someone dressed like a referee walked up to me and said I needed to pick up the pace if I wanted to live, but no matter what I did, my feet would hardly move. For whatever reason, I decided to try and run backwards, which worked, and I ran with my head turned looking behind me down the 101 highway. While all this may sound nightmarish, in my dream I wasn’t particularly scared.

So last night while trying to fall asleep, I started thinking about that dream. What I found most odd about it was not the zombie/body snatcher people, or the fact that I could only run backwards, but my husband running. I realized that, in our seven and a half years together, I’ve never seen him run. Well, he’s done a sort of half run with Spazzy, but he’s 6’3”, and she weighs 10 pounds, so he isn’t exactly sprinting. He spends most of the time looking down at her to make sure his feet are nowhere near her tiny legs. So really, the dog run is more along the lines of a fake run. You know, that half run people do when they go through a crosswalk after the hand starts blinking – the, I’m-gonna-move-my-arms-like-I’m-running-but-my-legs-are-pretty-much-walking, run?

Well I think that’s weird. Not the fake run, but that I’ve never seen my husband run. How is that possible? How have I never once seen him run, not to or from anything, in all the years we’ve been together? And then I started thinking, has he ever seen me run? The answer is no, I don’t believe he has.

And this thought kept me up last night. What other acts have we not witnessed the other doing? Countless ones, obviously, but I’m talking about normal things, like running. This, of course, prompted me to try and formulate a list of what constitutes normal. Do somersaults count?

Geez, it’s seven in the morning, and I already need a nap.

Shut up princess

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I may have mentioned previously that I am a vivid dreamer. Big time. At least a couple times a week I tell my husband about whatever weird dream I had the night before, and he either laughs or looks at me like he’s trying to determine if maybe, just maybe, he married a crazy woman. Also, my dreams seem so incredibly real that on occasion I have to remind myself not to get mad at my husband if we had a dream fight.

Last week I talked about my bout of insomnia. I think my body was finally tired enough to highjack my brain, because fortunately I’ve been able to sleep now for several nights, which is fantastic. However, I am having crazy dreams. The kind where you wake up and think, what in the hell is wrong with me? Not nightmares, just bizarre. For example, a few nights ago I dreamed I was getting my tubes tied, but had to do it on an airplane. Luckily, I don’t try to interpret my dreams. They’re just strange television shows to watch while sleeping.

(side note – the night before last I had a dream fight with my husband. He lost the character in my newest book. Yes, I know that doesn’t make sense, but whatever. I am taking it as a good sign. That I’m dreaming about it, that is, not that he lost her.)

Anyway, one of the downsides of my strange dreams is that they are really freaking loud. See, I am a noisy sleeper. Always have been. I don’t snore, but the moment I fall asleep, involuntary noises come from deep in my throat. I’ve done it since I was a child, and my family has always referred to it as my ‘princess noises’, which is incredibly nice, because it’s a very weird thing. When I was a kid I was embarrassed about it during sleepovers. My girlfriends would ask, ‘why do you do that?’, and my sister refused to sleep in the same room as me, “I can’t sleep with you and all your stupid princess noises!”

I can’t help it. Believe me, I’ve tied to stop. Sleeping in different positions doesn’t help. I could tape my mouth shut and it wouldn’t matter, because the noises come from my throat. It’s like I’m trying to do some sort of yoga chant thing while simultaneously purring like a cat, but on helium.  In fact, it’s so loud that I often wake myself up making the noises.

My husband usually isn’t bothered by it. Under normal circumstances, they go something like this:

But if I have a nightmare, or a weird dream, they become markedly louder. And talking is involved too. According to my husband, last night in between very loud princess noises, I kept saying ‘little’.

Anyhoo, thankfully my insomnia spell is broken. My husband, on the other hand, is screwed.

This is not a post, but it is why I don’t do yoga.

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There is no post today, kids, more of an observation. I started a post, but then it got all complicated and science-y and I got confused, so I need an extra day to think.

As most of you know, sleep and I are rarely on speaking terms. I refuse to take a sleep aid of any sort, but I need to do something. The classic advice outside of Ambien, Lunesta and melatonin are things like take a warm bath before bed, or light a lavender candle and breathe. Yeah, none of that works for me. My mind takes a look around and says ‘oh hey, you made it nice and comfy for me to think.’ What I need is help shutting my brain off. One alternative I’ve yet to try is yoga. In theory it’s supposed to be great for your mind and body and blah blah blah. Tons of people practice it, so there must be something to the whole thing (however, I should note that the same could be said for Scientology, or the vast number of people that believe the world will end this year…I’m just sayin’).

I’m not really a yoga person, in case you couldn’t tell. In fact, every time we make the trip to Santa Cruz, I find myself sniggering and annoyed at all the Ohm this and Namaste that. Plus, I noticed during our last visit that some shops were selling Keep Santa Cruz Weird shirts. Um, I hate to tell you, Santa Cruz-ites, but Keeping it Weird is the unofficial slogan of Austin, Texas. And it has been for years and years. You can look it up on Wikipedia, just in case you were wondering if it was official and stuff. You know what’s weird? Stealing another city’s slogan.

Anyway, somehow in my mind yoga got all mixed up with stealing and hippies and so I’ve never given it a fair shake. Perhaps meditative yoga is just what I need. Plus, a studio recently opened a couple blocks away, and they are offering reasonable signup specials. The problem is that I don’t really know what I’m doing, and while there are beginners classes, I’m fairly certain most people know the basic poses. Except me. So I ordered a ‘yoga for beginners’ disk on Netflix, and this afternoon is the second time I’ve gone through the poses.

I don’t think it’s working.

First off, I realized when I sat down to write this that I fast forwarded through all the talking at the beginning, which is probably when they covered the meditative shit. Then there is that fact that I find myself highly annoyed with the instructors, a little dude that is about my height but a solid ball of muscle, and a tall, serene looking woman. I can get into the poses without problem, but then they start telling me what I’m doing wrong.

“A common mistake in this pose is to tighten the neck muscles, so make sure to loosen them, now look up toward the sky and breeeeath.”

And that is my cue to fall. I can’t do the pose, relax, breath and look up all at the same time. It throws off my balance.

My other problem with the video is that I can’t help but look at little dude and tall lady and wonder if they’re getting it on. I know, I know, yoga is meditative and transformative and whatever, and it isn’t about sex. But seriously, they are both so bendy. How can I not wonder? So between my inappropriate questions and yelling at the screen every time one of them commands ‘soft eyes’ (and what does that even mean? Like you want me to unfocus them? No wonder I fall), I just don’t see myself making good use of yoga.

Meh. The search continues.

Come back tomorrow for a discussion of genetics.

Everyone deserves a drink

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It’s Monday. But the good news is that for many people it’s a short work week. Unless you happen to be doing the cooking on Thursday, in which case your week is probably going to be very, very long. And if you aren’t doing the cooking, but you have to drive 5 hours to get to whatever family member’s home that’s hosting dinner, you too will have a long week. ‘Cause that’s Thanksgiving, y’all.

But guess what? Drink Well is out on Amazon and B&N. You can order your copy here if you have a Kindle, and here if you have a Nook. And if you don’t have an e-reader, you can still order on Amazon, and download this free app so that you can read it on your PC or phone. Awesome, innit? Because I care. I know some of you will need a good cocktail to get through the festivities. Or perhaps you need to make a cocktail for that ‘special’ family member, so they can just chill the f*ck out, instead of getting’ all up in your kitchen and telling you that your potatoes suck. That person? Make theirs a double.

Thanks again to Dani and Greg for their cocktail stories, I hope you get to imbibing as soon as possible.

In other news, I gave my husband a case of the insomnia. Usually he is one of those individuals who falls asleep the moment his head hits the pillow. Not so much the past couple of nights. His job is the real culprit. He got home from work at 7:30 in the morning on Saturday. Today he had to be at work at 7am. So I’d like to give a big shout out to whoever made the stupid schedule – YOU SUCK! Way to not give the crew a rest.