I had a dream about a serial killer yesterday. It was a waking dream. I had been in bed for about 48 hours straight. Goes that way when I need to shiit. Which i didn’t realize until my dear mother brought me fruit, 2 packages of fruit salad, and then fed me a fresh-made sausage patty at her house. I went there complaining about pain and sickness…but it was really the dream that got to me. It must have gone on for hours.
I can’t go back over the details. I am out of it now and want to leave it far behind. This was the second of two attacks on me in my dreams–the other was brief, I was suffocated to the point that my mouth was covered over and I was pushed back into blackness–then I woke up.
I can’t put my finger on who I think sent that man–it was a real person, not just a dream; he was too specific, I felt his flesh on me–I mean, I won’t say it, but now I am scared of everybody in my life (except my son.) I was about to give power of attorney to my mother… (huh what???)…because of how sick and scared and overwhelmed I felt. I was in bad pain. It’s been a while. But then the usual, or maybe the unusual, happened: I took a dose of lactulose, and ate the fruit and the sausage and woke up ready to have a b.m. Slowly the stress on my damaged innards healed. I have to go again and can’t because of the uro-gyny pain; so I’ve taken another dose of lactulose. And motrin.
Arghh I am scared. I locked everything down tight. I am alone. Tonight, I love my downstairs neighbors even for the feuding because maybe they would pay attention if they saw a strange man hanging around. This time it would be a gun I believe.
I don’t want to go to sleep tonight.