Dear Diary . . . day by day

Monday, June 26th - Dija Have a Bad Dream, Honey?
I'm not feeling well today. I've got a nasty cough that kept me up most of the night, sinus pressure and a headache to go with it. It may be that this is two different ailments: a cough/cold thing that's living in my lungs and an old-fashioned sinus reaction to allergies. I never had allergies before I lived in California. Strike one against the Golden State.
I also had very, very bad dreams last night. I've noticed that as I get older, my nightmares are no longer scary in the slasher-movie sense. When I was little, I remember dreams about bad men with guns coming to get me in my bed at night. The dreams were very dark sepia-toned affairs with lots of shadows, and the men had scraggly beards and bad breath - occasionally they were pirates with shiny curved knives . . .I can still produce a shudder just remembering the sheer terror I felt at those dreams. There's something honest in that shudder - an acknowledgement of the primal fear, the animal reactions inside us. And, considering today's nightmares, I almost yearn for them.
These days, I have emotionally terrifying nightmares. In my dreams, I discover new lows of depression and misery that I never quite have in real life. I'm the one causing the terror - my choices are incredibly bad, but I can only see that afterwards. I have no control, only the powers of retroflection and self-abasement to hurl me down the spire of self-hatred. And there's also watching people I love suffer from what I've done. Once I've made bad choices near the beginning of the dream, the rest of the characters chime in, and it's a cacophany of emotional fuges. Fighting. And loss, loss, loss.
They make the boogey-man nightmares look like fantasies.
Oddly enough, the emotional nightmares make me want to stay in bed - probably because they exhaust me, drain me dry right at the beginning of my day. I sleep a lot. I have to remind myself to eat, because even though I'm not hungry, I'm getting weak from low-blood sugar. Why don't I feel hunger anymore? That's such an odd one to me - it makes me afraid something is truly wrong.
Hm. I sound depressed, don't I? I don't really feel all that depressed - oh, hm. Ok, there are a couple of things I'm anxious about - I supposed that's it. Well, I best write or work out or something. Perhaps I will clean my room and lift weights right here and write. And then I'll call Ian and Elle and see Leo - oh, wait, maybe not with this cough - Damn! Maybe I shouldn't lift weights either - might make my head worse, ok, I'll do some yoga. And I'll try to write - finish that story - Ok. Right after I clear off this desk . . .
Well, gots stuff to do! Thanks for the chat - I feel much better! See ya tomorrow, ok?
Exercise log:
Ran copious errands on Saturday, including returning my chair to Ikea (only took a half an hour on a Saturday! an Ikea record!). WMS Saturday night. I gardened on Sunday and dug up hard dirt for a new batch of lettuce.
Writing log:
Too many errands/chores to sit and think.
I'm currently reading:

Imago (the third book in the Xenogenesis trilogy) by Octavia E. Butler

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