As most of you know I intensely dislike woo woo stuff. Which is part of the reason I wrote the post last night.
Now, there is a fine line between woo woo stuff and “My subconscious does a lot of the thinking for me and it’s highly uneasy with something I can’t pin down.” (The subconscious things is where the novels come from. Either that or I’m an instrument receiving transmissions from novel-land. I don’t like the last, so I’ll go with the first. And I know I do a lot of thinking subconsciously, like when I started smelling a rat with the covidiocy and only AFTER did I add up things and figure out why I smelled the rat.)
For instance, the month leading up to 9/11 I spent waking up halfway through the night and staring at the ceiling. In woo-woo land, where there’s way more than the physical world, and some of us sense it, there are events so large they send an echo both ways. In non-woo-woo land, the left was nerving itself up for SOMETHING at that time, because of the hanging chads and all that nonsense. (This was before questioning the results of elections was “insurrection and a crime” and you’re not supposed to remember that.) 9/11 sucked the air out of that particular room, so it’s possible my subconscious had added two plus two and got fire alarm, then when 9/11 happened kind of stood down, more worried about getting Dan home from Washington DC where he was in a (Non-government related) job assignment.)
However, when I start having white nights, in which I wake up around 4 am and stare at the ceiling having the quiet horrors, like something big and evil and inescapable is heading right for me, I worry. Particularly if it’s more than two in a row. Last night was the third.
I’ve had these before. One or two is often related to something happening to someone I care about, and not having heard from that person in a while, which triggers it.
Three can be something I forgot to do that needs doing, but I just don’t remember, and which will bite me in the soft part of the back if I don’t soon. And sure that could be it.
It’s just that these are BIG horrors, and it doesn’t feel like THAT.
So, that is that, and I’ll just say that I hate feeling hungover without having a drop of alcohol.
The other thing, of course, if that I fell off the sleep hygiene thing. And that is not making anything better.
Specifically the sleep hygiene I fell off from was “no screens after 8:30 pm.” I dislike that rule intensely, partly because I’m slightly OCD and obsessive (like water is SLIGHTLY wet) and if I’m in the middle of finishing something (Yesterday it was re-covering some older novels. I still need to type set and do new paper re-issues.) I don’t want to stop doing it.
Also, although I always scheduled some insty posts, I’m used to doing the first two/three hours of my shift live, and it feels weird to schedule the overnight posts at 8 pm or so.
So… well, my husband wanted to watch a documentary together one night, and then well… yesterday it was the covers. And it’s crept on. And I’m not in bed, reading not a glowing screen by 10 pm. And then I sleep like cr*p.
And it’s going to take another two weeks to get the circadian adjusted again. And I don’t like it. But the body seems to perform better with plentiful and timely sleep. So, you know what? I’ll have to do it.
I just don’t like it.
BUT I like the hangover without drinking even less.
And I purely despise the echoes I’m getting off this set of night horrors. (Oh, Nights in the light is the Portuguese idiom for sleepless nights.) Too much Celt in the bloodline, and then one side of the family did an soujourn in Ireland and Scotland helping no one.
Not much I can do about it, though except take care of myself. And I will get myself straight again. Too much to write to be this ineffective.
But also, just in case, I’ll keep my clothes and weapons where I can find them in the dark.