Rediculous

I was still living at The Duck. Things were simple, but the house was uncharicteristicly dirty. I was hungry, but the only clean dish was an ashtray. This was also very uncharicaristic as everyone smoked in that house. There was still a bit of ash in the bowl, but I was hungry and it didn't matter.

I returned to my bedroom. My mattress was on the floor, and dirty laundry was piled everywhere,but Joe lay playing on his phone on my bed. It made me smile so I crawl into bed with him, my ashtray full of food.

Suddenly a bee comes through the window. I didn't even realize it was open. I'm going into full on panic attack with tears streaming down my face begging Joe to get it. He gets up calmly and starts trying, but it always gets away. 

I wake up in a full blown panic attack in my house now to realize it was a dream. I feel tears on my face. My pulse races. My heart throbs achingly in my chest. I'm having a hard time breathing. And I have to calm myself down, because I actually love bees and it was all just a nightmare. Joe is snoring softly beside me and all is right with the world. I just need to convince my body.

It takes a while.

Moral of the story: I hate nightmares. I always have nightmares. Every single night. Sleep is badass. I need more of it.