From childhood, I’ve had trouble sleeping…staying up until 5 or 6 in the morning, as though I needed the cold reality of daylight to soothe me. The monsters are not as frightening when you can see them clearly.
Native Americans believe that when we dream we go into another dimension. I know this. Every day I wake up exhausted, with burning muscles, as though I have fought a tremendous battle. My nightmares are vivid paroxysms of blood & death. I don’t know how to draw the line between dreams & reality.
Often, I am fighting myself. There is something primal living under my skin. There is a slow-burning rage, and a sense of urgency.
I hope that by writing this down, I can make better sense of it all.