Riding Shotgun After Midnight

Happy Monday morning. So glad to see you.

I've been awake for hours, something I hadn't planned on but which has definitely been a productive move. I've gotten lots of catch-up work done and the sun hasn't even peeked over the horizon yet.

And what do I have to thank for this glut of pre-dawn work time? None other than my subconscious, who in its infinite wisdom chose to grace me with a terror-inducing nightmare at 4 am. Yes, 4 am. Exactly.

How am I so sure it was precisely 4 am? Because about twenty seconds after I sat straight up in the bed, the grandfather clock began to toll. I didn't even need to count the chimes, although I did, from force of habit I suppose. No, I knew how many times the chimes would sound.

How did I know? Because at least once a week my darling, overactive subconscious sees fit to wake me with a nightmare. At exactly 4 am. Apparently 4 am is the nightmare hour, at least for me. 4 am. Ugh. I just want to know why 7 or even 8 can't be my magical nighmare number? Huh? What's up with that, anyway?

It would figure that one of this morning's news headlines is about a Bullet-Proof "Safe" Bed that has its own toilet, microwave and can stop a .357 slug. I want to know who goes to sleep expecting they may be shot at while they're wearing their jammies? Me, I wouldn't go to sleep --ever-- if I figured my flowered flannels would be full of holes by morning. I could never sleep in the "safe" bed, anyway. It looks like a coffin and I'm going to save my coffin-dwelling time for when I really need it, like when I'm in eternal slumber mode. And while I know an in-bed toilet would please some people, it's something I, personally, never hope to see. Don't even get me started on the whys of that because hey, it's early and I've got a lot of time on my hands and I might just tell you what I think of sleeping and, well, doing other things in the same space. Uh uh. Not for me, thank you very much.

The full "safe" bed article is here. In case you're, you know, interested in that sort of thing.

And I doubt even a microwave in my bed could prevent the 4 am nightmares. I don't use the kitchen microwave for anything other than heating water for tea and doing so would stimulate a need to use the facilities. I've already made my position on that one clear.

Sigmund Freud said that dreams are a "safety valve" for unconscious desires. Huh. I wonder what that says about my 4 am escapades?

I checked out the nighmare page at Psychology Today. Their basic take on the situation? Most nightmares may be a normal reaction to stress, and some clinicians believe they aid people in working through traumatic events.

Okay, then. I wasn't ever worried about my 4 am nightmares, especially since I use the extra waking hours to get stuff done at the computer. And since the great minds of psychology feel my vivid dreams are nothing more than a safety valve for subliminal urges and are helping me deal with real or imagined stress or trauma, it's all good. I mean, how could it not be?

Now I know for sure that if I'm ever on a pilotless plane flying through the vortex of a thunderstorm/hurricane/tsunami in a first class cabin filled with flesh-eating aliens and no olives for the martinis, I'll do just fine. Just. Fine.

What about you? Do you have nightmares, or are all your dream trips the warm, fuzzy kind?

I'm sure I saw an empty seat or two on the plane, if you're interested. They were in coach, mind you, but I'll bet the view is just as thrilling. Maybe more so, even. Who knows? The aliens back there might be more into discussing books and movies than eating your face. Or, maybe not.

I guess that's part of the fun of the 4 am nightmare ride. You just never know when it's going to begin. Or how it's going to end.