i can't sleep

so good news is i am sleeping again. i took a screen vacay yesterday. my wednesday night of sausages and beer became more of an adventure than i had planned.

final notes for the week-
dear giants: please win this one tonight since i will be there.
dear la haze that has landed on my city: please go back where you belong.
and have an amazing & great weekend! thanks for reading!

The knocking, I hear the knocking outside the door. Below my room. It keeps happening. I am not sure where it is coming from and if I should look, look and see what it is. The mystery of the noise keeps me from moving, I am stuck unable to do anything, anything at all. Except wonder what this is knocking and why it won’t stop. It has paralyzed me so I am not sure what to do.

The knocking at night or in the middle of the night scares me the most until I realize it’s either the neighbors or one of my roommates. I hate waking up in the middle of the night. Sleep has become my nemesis. I can’t make it through a whole night of complete sleep. It started a few weeks ago. I would wake up every am at 3:30 am.. What to do at 3:30 am except drink tea, read, take a sleep aid herbal or otherwise, or just will myself back to sleep. The knocking, that keeps me up is in my own mind. My mind racing, traveling at speeds that I am not comfortable with. I think, I think, I think too damn much. Now my thoughts have penetrated my sleep, my dreams, my now nightmares. I dream for restful sleep. Dream, dream, dream. The nightmares are so vivid and unlike anything I have experienced. All traumatic almost involving life and death, almost all things out of my control. My friend said I should take them to my therapist. After studying psych, Freud might have a field day with me.

So the good news in these nightmares, I always make it, I always survive. Shot five times in the shoulder, pleading for my life, no 911 working, no one to pick me up, I drive to the hospital myself. Myself and still leave with those 5 bullets, 5 bullets in my shoulder. Or when I was caught in a flood, calling my family to say goodbye and the water reached, the top, the top, only to rescind. Only for me to be okay. Okay. Okay. Or maybe when I thought my friends was avoiding me and my calls just to realize I had forgotten she had died. Forgotten she had died. I was scared to tell her, tell her what I had dreamt. But when I did she laughed. Laughed because how could you ever forget someone died. In my dream so guilty, I watched videos of her. Or how about when I saw a man a man get beat so terribly I called 911. Or how about when I left left the then guy’s house I was involved with to run an errand an errand for him. To find out he had slept with someone else while I was gone for 5 minutes.

What is the knocking? Why does it keep coming? I want the knocking to stop. The knocking inside my head that keeps me up, keeps me up, keeps me up, wondering what the knocking can really mean. What am I supposed to do? I want to get up and answer the door. But I am scared, scared to see what is on the other side.