(To be fair, in the daytime or when I was pissed, I thank God for the X chromosome that gave me space.)
Since childhood, I have had disturbing, vivid dreams. Sometimes, it's the same one; other times, they are different. I wake up with my heart racing and less frequently now, in a state of anxiety or full-blown tears.
When I got older and had "sleepovers," I realized how much I enjoy sleeping with another human. In our society, "sleep with" is often a euphemism for sex. It's not that for me.
In 2015, I wrote how there must be a "level of trust and security... established with someone" to do that "daily act of intimacy." I stand by the assessment I made at 25 years old. Sleep - like kissing, holding hands, and meeting loved ones - I typically reserve for my most intimate connections.
In college, I woke up from one of these nightmares with my then boyfriend lying beside me. We talked about the dream. It was the first time I discussed it with someone else.
Luc was a calming voice and presence. Whether he was in the same room or another state/country, I could call him. Time wasn't a consideration. We'd talk through it.
I woke up from a disturbing dream this morning.
I stopped the music and acknowledged it wasn't exactly a peaceful playlist. I reminded myself it was a dream, not a prescription for action in reality. I reflected on what my subconscious mind could be processing. I took a deep breath. I started writing. I calmed me.
I coax and coach myself back to this plane. I am self-regulating. That's growth.
MJ is still peacefully sleeping in the other room. It is Sunday. It's early enough to get another hour or two of rest. I fell into dream-free sleep.
When I meet someone special, I'll tell them, without providing context, I look forward to sleeping with you. (It will be truthful.) Sleep, afterall, is a daily act of intimacy - a way to show established trust and security within and without. Isn't that beautiful?
