1:28 am I sat bolt upright in bed, chest tight and heart pounding. It was still living within me, eating at me, gnawing at my soul. Still asleep I got out of bed and went to my desk. The pen in my hand felt odd, light, it wasn’t there. The paper before me was luminous and surreal in the near darkness. I knew it was there but couldn’t see it in the dark. I started to write, to flow, to allow it to spill onto the paper. I didn’t know what I was writing, I just wrote (the words are in bold).
“The body feels constricted but this feeling mocks you as it only shows that you are still alive. You want to die.”
The feeling of being in another place, out of body and mind. But knowing that it’s still a feeling and it only serves to remind you that you are still alive but on a journey towards death.
“Scared…before the end, knowing it was the end felt helpless. Defined and void of all external thought. Stuck in a situation by roads, people you love leaving; the clawing loss and the void they leave. The point at which being dead would feel better than this living emptiness”
The feeling of fear eating away at your very soul as you are left behind by loved ones. Their leaving feels like your soul is departing with them. You are left empty and hopeless.
“A grief in the chest, heavy with dread. Others confused but not knowing what was happening. Mind fighting to stay in the game. The heart pounding and tight in the chest. It’s like the end of oxygen, breathing is difficult because there doesn’t seem any point.”
Odd ghostlike figures drifted through my dream without meaning or reference. Superfluous and irrelevant beings but for their presence confirming that I was still there.
“It’s as though the body is closing down and the mind fighting desperately to wake up, but you are awake. Empty, crushed, grief of losing what was. It will never be the same. No comfort or sense that you can take a step or move from this loss. Deep clawing pit of despair. Empty worthlessness. No hope or any sense that the limbs will function. Deepest depression where each thought is just something that comes in to interrupt the hopelessness and loss.”
I tried to capture the sense of feeling as I struggled to write what I was feeling in this half sleep.
“Each view after a blink is hated and feared because I can see I’m still in the nightmare that I want to end. Angry I’m still here participating in the end of everything when all that I want is the end of everything.”
A sense that I feared the end but wanted the end to come. I wanted the nightmare of existence in this (dream) world to finish and for me to wake up to everything being ok again.
The pains in my chest stronger and more paralysing with each futile breath. I move to another room (in the dream) hoping to find something but it’s as empty as the others. The rooms are my heart, it is empty and I want to die.”
The pain I felt as I wrote were pains of crushing loss and debilitating grief.
I went back to bed and immediately resumed my sleep. Waking this morning to a lovely day full of hope and promises. I’d forgotten about my dream. I’m glad I wrote it down.