The dreams with the horrible pie-making contest

Warning: Contains horrible nightmarish scenes and lots of confused ramblings

Every night for weeks it’s been bad dream after bad dream and when I say bad dream, I mean dreams, plural. My broken sleep pattern still enables me to have multiple dreams each night. They are the absolute WORST dreams I have experienced in years.

Now I know SSRI’s and NSAID’s can cause insomnia, headaches, bruxism and at first can make you feel worse but I’m a good few months in and ready to get off the crazy carousel now. Every night I drift off easily before waking up at 3am, usually from the normal part of the dream. An hour later my jaw hurts from the clenching, I’m panicking and shouting out. An hour or ninety minutes after that I’m scared and waking from a terrible horrific gruesome dream. What’s weird is that I can sometimes return to that dream around six am and replay or ‘correct’ it.

I’ve had murders, dirty toilets, fights with ghetto girls, one where I strangled a Beverley Hills Housewife! Dreams of oppression, frustration, scary creepy lost cities, statues without heads and last night a leper poisoning a pie with a sausage that contained infected faeces!?!

Unlike my normal dreams I can never remember much except the terrified or shock feeling I wake up with. Something is wrong, very wrong. I guess I’m not sleeping long enough to have proper dreams but where are my happy dreams, my fabulous travelling one and where are my Angels? I have even woken up crying my heart out. I’ve had enough!

I apologise if you were expecting an account of last night – Here’s a short synopsis:

  • I was in Ireland
  • The local businesses are suffering
  • Town mayor decides to hold a pie making contest with the bakers and hold in the pubs to celebrate and encourage commerce
  • The pubs are filled with people planning special recipes
  • A local vagabond wants to join in
  • He is sick. Full of disease
  • I see him slyly shit a dirty, infected, diseased poop into a sausage casing.
  • He bakes it in a pie and wins. The head of police, town mayor and others eat the pie.
  • He slinks off with the prize money
  • I wake up feeling sick and scared
  • When I re-dream this later I follow him around but cannot board a bus so I walk and walk until my legs tire. Back at the pub everyone is happy and unaware and there are boots with blue laces on a table and someone sings July after the contest – I am confused

I hate these dreams. Night after night without end in sight. Do I dream these horrible dreams because I am sick inside? Is it because I’m in pain that I rage frustrated through the night? I pray to God to make them stop and bring back my Angels or trips to Peru x

Codeine dreams make me scream!

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