So I have suffered with insomnia the past several months. I'm almost certain this has more to do with anxiety, those obnoxious people who boom their cars at 3am in my neighborhood & the fact that I used to prepare my coffee so strong I referred to it as "liquid crack", and less the fact that I am in my thirties. Nevertheless it has been quite a nemesis.
I considered joining a late-night fight club or at least getting a 3rd shift job. I tried baths, meditation, exercise, melatonin; everything natural but crazily began considered injecting a horse tranquilizer square into my brain or Ambien.
Eventually I had to surrender to the sleeplessness and decide to make the best of another of life's unexpected, ill-timed, crappy hands.
My last resort was sound-proofing my bedroom. Last night I laid sound-absorbing rubber flooring under the bed and hung 2'x4' acoustic panels on the walls. I had decided if that didn't help my insomnia then I would have at least established a place I can record banjo music all night long if needed. I'm not exaggerating when I type that I slept like a fetus. Realistically, this could be due to sheer exhaustion or the fact that is was storming, but I choose to believe it was due to all my determination and effort. My Fitbit confirmed that I got a solid 7.5 hours but I also dreamt so hard. I remember even the smallest details.
Now for the really exciting part; my dream. Whee! (Everyone loves hearing of other people's dreams. They are so important. Believe me, I get it. Yes, this is sarcasm. )
So my friends and I were walking in a dark, Sin City comic-like alley (like ya do). It had been raining because the street was wet and there were puddles. Out of nowhere Beyoncé pulls over in a limo and asks us to be background dancers. I have no clue what happened to her incredibly coordinated and well-rehearsed dancers. I don't think anyone asked or questioned it. When Yoncé asks you to join her dance crew, you just do it no questions asked.
We went back stage and put on some tattered, sequined, black, ruffled mini dress and waited to go onstage. Her opener was Mahalia Jackson accompanied by break dancers who pop-and-locked like zombie extras from "The Walking Dead".
Suddenly I was over-come with anxiety. "I've watched the Beyoncé dancers like 3 times in my life. how am I supposed to know the routine". I asked Beyoncé to place me waaaaaayyyyy in the back. Beyoncé was less than concerned about me clumsily clopping around her stage. Of course she wasn't; even in my dreams she slays.
The dream ended with me walking a lonely street with a trench coat covering my costume, being approached by a homeless man with a grocery cart.
I guess it was too much pressure for me.
I woke up wishing I'd at least stayed and watched the show.
Wishing you the sweetest of dreams,
xo Cheriebobomb
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