I've developed a troubling pattern. I wake up at 7:00, an hour before I actually get up for work. I either lay in bed stressing about work and trying to think about anything else, or manager to fall asleep and have stress dreams. It only happens on days I have work, so I know that has to be why.
Today was a weird one. Not a nightmare per say, but not pleasant. I was at work, and it was Oscar night. And somehow, the Kodak theater (where the Oscars take place) was attached to the funeral home. Everyone else was leaving the office, and I was running around trying not to get caught watching the show on a TV from inside the funeral home.
My husband was working there too, and the funeral home turned into our home. I looked out the window and saw a huge procession of police cars go by: it had to be a funeral accompaniment. Mack pointed out how a young officer had been killed in a fireworks explosion, hadn't I known? I said no, and we watched the footage on TV. It was graphic.
To be fair, that bit about the cop is almost identical to something that happened in a book I'm reading. So I know its genesis at least.
While we watched the cars go by, someone started stomping around on the roof. Earth-shaking stomps. I watched the skylight, eventually seeing a friend of the family that often does handiwork and gets on our roof unexpectedly. I told Mack, and he calmed down.
Then the friend was in the house, explaining to me about how death wasn't so bad. With a random southern accent that he doesn't have in real life.
Then I woke up.
I'm going to make a doctor's appointment for next Friday. He's only a general practitioner, but maybe I can get some anti-anxiety meds or what I actually want, a recommendation to visit another doctor who can actually help me. I'm sick of feeling/being sick every work day.
Today was a weird one. Not a nightmare per say, but not pleasant. I was at work, and it was Oscar night. And somehow, the Kodak theater (where the Oscars take place) was attached to the funeral home. Everyone else was leaving the office, and I was running around trying not to get caught watching the show on a TV from inside the funeral home.
My husband was working there too, and the funeral home turned into our home. I looked out the window and saw a huge procession of police cars go by: it had to be a funeral accompaniment. Mack pointed out how a young officer had been killed in a fireworks explosion, hadn't I known? I said no, and we watched the footage on TV. It was graphic.
To be fair, that bit about the cop is almost identical to something that happened in a book I'm reading. So I know its genesis at least.
While we watched the cars go by, someone started stomping around on the roof. Earth-shaking stomps. I watched the skylight, eventually seeing a friend of the family that often does handiwork and gets on our roof unexpectedly. I told Mack, and he calmed down.
Then the friend was in the house, explaining to me about how death wasn't so bad. With a random southern accent that he doesn't have in real life.
Then I woke up.
I'm going to make a doctor's appointment for next Friday. He's only a general practitioner, but maybe I can get some anti-anxiety meds or what I actually want, a recommendation to visit another doctor who can actually help me. I'm sick of feeling/being sick every work day.
No comments:
Post a Comment