Narcotic fueled nightmares

This is a subject that I'm sure has frequented this blog.  But after last night and this morning, with how horrible nightmares and how hard it was to drag myself to a family dinner at noon, I just had to write.  At least when I was sleeping next to my husband I could roll over, touch his back and confirm that this was indeed reality, not that awful dreamworld.

I tried sleeping with the dogs.  Oh heavens.

Sully takes up the whole bed.  You know how she lies on you and thinks she's a lapdog on the couch?  Yeah, that's how she is in bed, but diagonally. That's a lot of dog.  So you have to sleep in the fetal position in one of the corners.

Libby is sweet and sleeps in a ball, but unfortunately it's near your head and she is on high alert all night long.  And between the two of them, they shed. And the dog farts.  Bloody hell.

Other than that it's wonderful.

I learned that we have nightmares in what scientists refer to as the fourth level of sleep, once our brain has emitted a subtle chemical that tends to paralyze us so we can't act out our dreams.  I just wish that narcotics didn't have this side effect of brining out the worst in my psyche.  Sometimes sleep is torturous and I wake over and over drinking my own tears, feeling them run down my neck into my ears.