Won’t you turn the heat down … ?
I am not in favour of the sense of humour that God seems to possess. If someone presented me with the opportunity to spend the summer in the Land of Narnia [before it was saved] I would actually board a plane [if the wardobe wasn’t working] and fight Aslan in the snow. And I refuse to spend any more time speaking about the horrid heat and humidity that currently plagues this little island.
[my skin tingles with the sun that still seems to dance merrily on its surface despite the fact that I spent a mere hour outside simply eating my dinner, scooping scum off the pond and scrubbing the second-hand chairs and table that mumsy kindly gave us – yay! we have a garden and garden furniture!]
Last night I dreamt. And suddenly I awoke from my dream. The bed was moving. No, not just moving – it was rolling around as though somehow in the night the sea had entered my bedroom and a storm had whipped up the waves into a frenzy. I reached out for The Blokey but he wasn’t in bed and I screamed, fretfully trying to stop the bed from rolling and swaying. He didn’t respond to my screams. This disturbed me so I screamed louder.
And then I jolted awake.
I watch films and laugh at the absurdity of people actually squirming around in their sleep, speaking nonsense and then jolting awake. But it seems that my laughter is in vain. It was two am. And The Blokey wasn’t in bed. I was lying in exactly the same position as when I fell asleep [on my belly, arms tucked underneath me] which leads me to believe that the sleep-paralysis has made a [hopefully brief] comeback.
I went through a phase of sleep-paralysis which began when I was about sixteen or seventeen and heard footsteps from my bedroom in the village near Gip. Unable to move and with fear coursing through my body, my heart beating twenty-thousand times a second, I lay waiting for the end to come. And it didn’t. Obviously. But over the next few years I suffered muchly from this sort of thing. My fears were only heightened when I stupidly read articles in magazines such as The Fortean Times that said I was being abducted by aliens or being visited by the paranormal.
I know it’s only a form of dreaming, a result of something in the brain doing something whilst I sleep, something that many people all around the world suffer from. But I don’t want it to return. Last night was especially surreal because although I was rolling with the bed and clinging on to the covers there was a part of my mind that was aware that I was paralysed in reality.
Back with the unprescribed sleeping tablets tonight then – *grin*.
I was made happy this week when The Blokey returned from work one evening and handed me a please-do-not-bend envelope containing a picture that has been touched by ink that comes from a pen that has been held in the hand of Alan Rickman.
*develops a moistness in the nether-regions*
[which could simply be because it’s so hot today]
I wish I could go brown.
please God bless the present that i will post tomorrow to hana in czecho even though the big brother fails to respond to my emails, damn him xxx Elsabeth