Tag Archives: sleep

The Golden Beads

Otto sleeps in a crate next to Rob’s side of the bed. He’s not a quiet sleeper. First of all, he snores like a drunk old man. Second, at various times during the night he moves around in his crate so roughly and wildly that I’m almost positive he is transforming into some kind of werewolf, and that when he finally bursts out of his crate, he’ll be wearing a cape he fashioned using only his doggie blankets.

It can be hard to sleep through.

I’m back to wearing the BiPap with nasal pillows at night, which has really put a damper on my goal to never have anything that far up my nose. I’m also using the chinstrap, which helps me keep my mouth closed while I’m sleeping. To quote my friend Kevin Swan, the chinstrap has definitely not brought the sexy back. It makes me look like an emaciated high school wrestler, but I must admit I’m sleeping better.

I can no longer lift my left arm over my head for a stretch, and it’s been ages since my right was able to move that way. So I wake up in the middle of the night with shoulder pain, and if it’s really bad, I have to wake Rob and ask him to raise my arms towards the head of the bed. Obviously, this is the highlight of his night, especially when he was comfortable and snoring just as loud as Otto. Read More>

In Dreams

“At the border of the forest—dream flowers tinkle, flash, and flare,—the girl with orange lips, knees crossed in the clear flood that gushes from the fields, nakedness shaded, traversed, dressed by rainbow, flora, sea.” —Arthur Rimbaud, Childhood, from Illuminations

“Nothing is as boring as other people’s dreams.” —John Green, Paper Towns

“Sorry.” —Sarah, today.

In my dreams, I can walk. I know I have ALS, but when I’m asleep it’s just a vague idea that doesn’t affect my abilities at all. I make my way through unfamiliar rooms, carefully, knowing I could fall, knowing I can’t actually do this thing that I am somehow doing. It feels like something other than my body is holding me up.

Then I am running, from one place to another; so many things need to be handled, and all at once. I see all the people I’ve ever known, and they are confused. “I thought you were sick,” I hear them call as I rush off.

There is a stage floating at the top of a giant stadium. The show is performed inside a net, and I am playing several different roles. I haven’t practiced my lines, I’ll have to read them from a script. There are so many costume changes, but no time to manage them between scenes. The show is starting and I’m not in the right place…

Stress dreams. But not as stressful as waking up with my legs tangled around each other, Left weighing down Right, and my neck uncomfortable from where it’s wedged against my pillow. Read More>