Can’t Shleep? Count Bloody Goats!

I was suffocated. But it was more than the darkness of dawn that kept me in bed. My arms pinned to my sides & my comforter cover tightly binding me like an Egyptian mummy. When I tried to wriggle free I felt a stickiness on my cheek. Not unlike a night’s worth of drool, the viscous liquid had drenched the pillows, making the pillow case stick to my cheek. No it wasn’t saliva, snot, cum or some other bodily fluid. It was blood. No doubt about it. That acrid smell & almost metallic taste was unmistakable.

It was at that moment I explored my mouth with my tongue. The only muscle I could move freely glazed over raw ragged flesh. There were giant ulcers where my front teeth used to be. How many missing? I couldn’t say. Really ‘you don’t know what you got, till its gone’. Then the pain set in.

Throb… Throb… Throb…

Pain or not I had to get loose from the body corset of my own device. I had to get out of that damn comforter. I had to see where were my teeth. Did I swallow them? Did I bite someone? Had my neurotic sleep walking episodes led me to take a chuck out of a table?

Ten minutes of tossing & turning later my limbs were free to move. Dreading what I would see, I rushed for the light switch. The harsh fluorescent light revealed the preceding night’s carnage. The massacre. The battle of the demons within me.

Throb… Throb… Throb…

Pillows were strewn about. My bed was covered in synthetic cotton from my favorite pillow. Like the gauze used by the dentist to soak up my blood, some of the fluff was stain red. Some was not. Some had already begun to dry and had a sickly brown color. Then I saw it- neatly stuck in the wall above my bed. First of many I am sure. Not a drop of blood, which was pretty amazing considering the condition of the rest of my bloody room.

My bloody room. Can one person really loose so much blood & still be coherent enough to admire his own handy work?

Throb… Throb… Throb…

What else had I done in my sleep? I turned and faced the mirror. Broken, just like everything else. Through the almost fang like shards of glass I saw a familiar face. Bloodstained. Dried blood clotted on my cheeks like cheap horror movie victim. Oh there’s another. Like a mini tombstone sticking out of the mirror’s wooden frame. I would have been quicker to spot it, if not for how it eerily blended with the wood.

I needed a moment to try and rationalize the senseless destruction.

‘Oh look! Another tooth!’ Glued with blood to the sole of my right foot. How did that get there? How did I get here? How did I end up in this big bloody mess?

And that’s the point where the nightmare normally ends & I wake up in a pool of my own silent panic. No screaming. ‘Just saliva on the pillow,’ I reassure myself. A quick swipe of my tongue reveals everything is where it is supposed to be. Still I pant. Still I shiver. I’m too afraid or shocked to leave the comfort of the comforter.

It was all too damn real. My nightmares are always like that. You’d suppose I’d be used to them by now. And to some level I am. But it doesn’t mean I don’t fear going to sleep sometimes. It doesn’t mean I don’t worry that one day I’ll awake to a bed bloodied. I don’t know what I will wake up to. But at least I know my worst enemy.

She's gonna pick a star in the night
And pray to make it all right
She tried so hard not to pick a kite
She always prayed to heaven lights
Wallflowers ~ Three Marlenas