It was burning. Everything was burning. Initially just an orange glow in the distance. But it grew and grew. Racing toward us. I stood holding a hose, useless against the wall of flames descending on the farm. Every fire extinguisher was in use. We were trying, but we were losing. We couldn’t stop it. It soon became apparent that the only choice was to flee. What about the horses? and animals? How would we save them? which would we chose to save? there was only so much time. My heart was racing and my mind numb. Sadness was immense. I made my choices. I saved the ones dearest to me. I walked away from the rest. Loaded the horses into the trailer. grabbed anything of value, or that wasn’t replaceable. tears streamed as I looked over my shoulder. We left it. The flames loomed just a few feet from the buildings. We had set the rest of the animals free in hopes they would run. The first rays of dawn broke on the horizon. The long night of fire was past. In the light of day we returned. Everything stood untouched. The fire had changed direction. It had spared the farm and the animals. All the terror and the fighting, and most of all the choice of whom to save had been for nothing. Just some weird sick twist of fate. It was futile. There was no getting away. No walking away from this place. The sadness of leaving it all behind had been for not. This dream was as vivid and real as they get. Every detail in Technicolor. The heat of the fire, the smell of the burning woods, the panicked calls of the horses. all of it so real. so so real. I woke, as if propelled by some hand, out of bed. Breathing hard, as if just running. I had been running in my dream. I had been running away. I actually was free, for a moment. I had made my decision to go. Only to awake to this life, again.

That wasn’t the only dream. I had fallen into a restless sleep during the late afternoon yesterday. the seroquel had combined with the exhaustion of depression to just level me. it wasn’t long before I was dreaming. the dream repeated every time I fell back into sleep. It is very hard to write about this, nevermind think about it. I was hanging. back in that predawn storm. All the sensations, the cold, the rope as it snapped tight against my throat. I felt the weightless moment of suspension. the struggling for breath. the pounding of blood in my ears, the sway of the rope in the wind and my weight. and I would wake up. Panting pulling at my neck, looking to free myself. There was not rope, but I felt like I was being strangled. I would slowly start breathing more regularly and sleep would return and the process would repeat. It was so real I was convinced I had hung myself again. It was terrifying. I dragged myself out of bed, I couldn’t take it anymore.

I do not often remember dreaming. it is so rare for me to dream like this and remember it so clearly. I know dreams have a place, and often we process during our dream phases of sleep. I can only hope they don’t get worse than these. I have always found peace in sleep. Using it as an escape. There is no escape if it is all terror.

(image courtesy of http://www.stockfreeimages.com)