Warning: there is some dream content in this post, which I know some people find utterly dull. If you’re one of those people, then too bad. I think dreams are interesting and therefore I’m going to inflict them upon this blog viewership.

As far as I can remember, I have never been someone who sleeps well. When I was little my standard practice for falling asleep involved tightly shutting my eyes and willfully fantasizing about a blissful, glamorous life until I finally drifted into the dream world. (Embarrassingly enough, this is still the way I typically fall asleep…) Some mornings after I got out of bed my family would complain that I had ground my teeth so loudly it woke them all up. Other mornings my mom would tell me she had heard me laughing. I was not aware of these things– they happened in my sleep. I attributed them to my rather intense dreams. Through the years I would experience episodes of extremely vivid dreaming, in which I would wake up feeling as tired as when I went to bed.

That said, I never actually experienced insomnia until my twenties. Laying in bed at night finding interesting shapes in stains on the ceiling for hours on end, listening to the chorus of birds as the sun finally crested the horizon and vaguely wondering why I had such a defective brain that it didn’t allow for the physical necessity of sleep. However, this usually occurred in random bouts and didn’t trouble my day-to-day life too much. It wasn’t until quite recently that my insomnia became more problematic. The onset of which coincided with my being informed of the Sisters’ Camelot union campaign. Coincidence? I don’t think so.

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