Night terrors, courtesy of Newcastle Brown Ale.
I've noticed that when my body is detoxing from a lot of weekend boozing, or from a long period of eating crappily, drinking too much, and not exercising, I have a night or two of very nasty nightmares.
Yesterday was my first really good, clean living day in almost a month, because of the move, and not having my exercise equipment sorted, and the Superbowl, etc. However, last night was absolutely awful. I think I woke the spouse up at least twice, maybe more than that, with some violent tossing, shouting, whatever else people do when they're trying to wake themselves up from the terrors that their own subconscious minds let loose upon them.
Does anyone else experience this? No? Just me, huh?
The subconscious is a terrifying place. I don't like to visit too often. It does no one any good at all. The less said about that the better, I should think. Too much soul-searching on a blog is...inelegant.
Here's a nice photo.
................Archway, Fort Popham, Maine
Used to go to Popham Beach as a child. The family would prop a camper up for a few weeks each summer, and we'd travel back and forth, as parental work schedules allowed. Don't recall ever liking the beach much, but I loved wandering around Fort Popham, pretending to be an archaeologist, exploring some medieval castle or the remnants of some ancient Greek city.
There was, of course, no way the park rangers would let me dig for artifacts there, and most areas were off limits to the public. Also, it smelled like piss. But it was a damn sight better than getting sunburned, and cleaning sand out of every orifice at the end of the day.
Beaches. No sir. I still don't like them.
Yesterday was my first really good, clean living day in almost a month, because of the move, and not having my exercise equipment sorted, and the Superbowl, etc. However, last night was absolutely awful. I think I woke the spouse up at least twice, maybe more than that, with some violent tossing, shouting, whatever else people do when they're trying to wake themselves up from the terrors that their own subconscious minds let loose upon them.
Does anyone else experience this? No? Just me, huh?
The subconscious is a terrifying place. I don't like to visit too often. It does no one any good at all. The less said about that the better, I should think. Too much soul-searching on a blog is...inelegant.
Here's a nice photo.
................Archway, Fort Popham, MaineRapid. I love photos like this. I think I want a print of this for my new library/office/sitting room. I shall contact the photographer di-rectly.
Used to go to Popham Beach as a child. The family would prop a camper up for a few weeks each summer, and we'd travel back and forth, as parental work schedules allowed. Don't recall ever liking the beach much, but I loved wandering around Fort Popham, pretending to be an archaeologist, exploring some medieval castle or the remnants of some ancient Greek city.
There was, of course, no way the park rangers would let me dig for artifacts there, and most areas were off limits to the public. Also, it smelled like piss. But it was a damn sight better than getting sunburned, and cleaning sand out of every orifice at the end of the day.
Beaches. No sir. I still don't like them.
posted by Andraste at 2:00 PM
3 Comments:
No, you're not the only one to have lovely, vivid, kicking-at-the-snakes-in-the-covers nightmares. My poor little Mr. C gets at least one or two shows a month where I am kicking or screaming or any combination of the above.
Funny thing is, I usually have very lucid regular dreams, where I can control things. Not the nightmares, though. Ah well, it makes me appreciate all the rest of the ho-hum dreams.
Wandered over here from DeadpanAnn's place. :)
The beaches I like are the sort where the weather doesn't figure. Glowery, lowery clouds over a long, windy beach all deserted except for me on a long, long walk is something I miss.
I could never get the hang of sunbathing. Firstly I'm the wrong colour (corpse-white); then the sand, with teeth crunching but unamusing irony, would get in my sandwiches; sand also in my book, and gumming up the top on my sunscreen bottle; I can't get comfy; Too hot now; too cold a bit later. Can't concentrate on my book now so I want to go for a walk but am worried that the sun on my bare flesh will blind other sun-seekers. Wish I'd stopped at that nice little bar back there and read my book with a nice cold something and no freakin' sand in every orifice.
Hi,
Stumbled upon the pic of your father whom you say was with the 746th Field Artillery Battalion during WWII. My grandfather was also with that unit. It has been tough finding information and pics from the unit, do you have any information or other pictures which may contain other soldiers? I would really like to talk to you about it if possible. Please contact me.
Cheers,
Lou
deepsea06@gmail.com
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