I don’t think I’ve ever had such a vivid dream. Never so realistic. The dream was a cruel omnibus of every moment I’ve spent in court. Fighting over the one thing you would think should be simple. Access to my child. Not simple. The dream took every single suffered moment, every single tear, every second of heartbreak and hit me with it. I woke up in the fetal position sobbing hysterically. I was hyperventilating, swimming in sweat and my throat hurt. I cried until I fell asleep again.
How is it that when I’m doing so well, my brain would throw this horror at me. I’ve already been through it. I’ve cried enough. I’ve hurt enough.
Perhaps it was fit to burst with all the bad stuff the medication has pushed aside. A month of feeling nothing, a month that I would describe as bliss.
I want the bliss back.