sometimes, my head explodes

why I fear sleep October 31, 2007

Filed under: somniac — somniare @ 10:04 am

On mornings like this, I wish I hadn’t started dreaming again. I don’t mean that in the emo sense that I wish to crush my hopes and dreams, but the literal dream-sleep that I had been previously lacking. There have been a handful of really intriguing ones that I have felt the need to research more thoroughly but the one last night… well, it left me sick to my stomach.

I dreamt  of my ex-husband. Never before have I had a negative dream about him so this was disturbing. In real life, he has been taking the opportunity to trample me usually while drunk. In my dream, he was not drunk but you would never have guessed it. We were discussing some issues when he left to go to the bathroom. After getting an odd feeling, I went upstairs to check on him and found that he had gone into my bedroom and was pissing in the bottom drawer of my night table. I started screaming at him and he finished up his business, walked around the bed, opened the drawer to the night table on the other side and proceeded to vomit into it. I woke up sick to my stomach.

What in god’s name does a dream like that mean? The literal interpretation of pissing and vomiting all over my life? I may have to study this against my will just so I can get the disgusting visual out of my head.


when it rains October 30, 2007

Filed under: almost poetic — somniare @ 2:05 pm

Even in her bubble
she carries an umbrella.
For in the downpour,
droplets like cannonballs
rebound, catapaulted into
distant galaxies.

She fears the mist.
She knows the persuasion of erosion
as she patches weak spots
to prevent tiny missionaries
from penetrating her well accomplished
((s o l i t u d e))


outside of hell October 29, 2007

Filed under: hell is other people — somniare @ 11:24 am

I feel it necessary on this bitterly cold morning to state that while I may despise people, am damaged in some areas that are beyond repair, have a tendency to spiral within my own despair… I am not defined by this.

People read what they want to read and omit the undertones. The love and vitality that I harbor underneath it all. What spills out is often a way to cleanse and prevent my life from being corrupted by all that has debased what I am capable of being.

It’s so very sad that we as people have generally succumbed to sacrificing true vision and merely watch the world in shades of gray. True ignorance comes to the surface in the refusal to acknowledge those around us that truly radiate unadulterated color. I am not blinded to the people who stand out amongst the torpid, unimaginative souls that wander amongst us. The shallow ones, the pseudo-intellectuals, the shortsighted individuals… they are my anesthetic. They put my mind to sleep. In light of that, I depend on those times that I run across the rarities to inspire and revitalize. I am renewed in their company.

I’ve been blessed as of late to cross paths with a handful of such people. In my experience, I can say that there have been few who have impacted me enough to change my stance or views on myself as a whole. This year has been beyond intriguing in that I have learned that I have been the one responsible for shutting myself off from those that could have brought me out of my shell. In this time of evolution and rebirth though, I am blind no longer.

Hell is other people indeed…. and often one we opt to live in of our own free will.


how we remember

Filed under: bits and pieces — somniare @ 10:51 am

You corrode my memory.
A raw existence
like rust destroying childhood
happiness found in
favorite bicycles.


a new conclusion October 28, 2007

Filed under: hell is other people — somniare @ 5:55 pm

I came to a few conclusions today as to my ideas on completion. Most people seek that one person who satisfies their search for that “other half”. The one who amplifies who they are, complements what already exists, brings to life what lies dormant and also has enough of the qualities that one lacks in their own personality.

I’ve had quite a few lengthy discussion with various friends and acquaintances about what it is they are truly seeking. Mostly, I sit and listen and contribute my own theories to supplement theirs in regards to their mission but I don’t think I previously had actually taken the time to sit and think about what it is that I myself need in a ‘companion’.

I don’t need someone to make me think. I think way more than enough on my own. I would like someone to be able to match me in a conversation and bring to light NEW ideas and topics that I have not previously taken the time to ponder but I could live without that. It is possible for me to entertain my own thirst for knowledge all on my own as I am constantly studying new ideas, theories and concepts. My brain is always busy. Most certainly, being the person that I am, I definitely have a desire to experience understanding of my quirks and downfalls. There’s a lot about me that needs healing as well as a lot that needs to be seen as NOT being broken… simply different. Once again, not an absolute necessity. I can live with being misunderstood. Being that I have made it this far as a general pariah for the things that cause me to be isolated even in my most intimate relationships. I do not fear being ostracized. I could go on and on about what I would like in ideal circumstances…

What I discovered though, is one true need. I need someone that makes me feel. For as long as I can remember, I have lived in a perpetual state of ‘numb’. There are brief moments and people that have crossed my path and I have found the blessing of individual experiences to prove to me what would bring me ultimate happiness. I simply can’t live as I have any more. Yes, it’s safe… but it’s cold and while I prefer the frigid existence to one of smothering, overwhelming heat… it isn’t enough for a person who finds inspiration in all that I allow to trigger my emotions. My perfect complement would not be a person who is overly expressive in their own emotions, they simply have to trigger mine. It’s a strange balance and one that is difficult to explain… but this is my ultimate conclusion. The final piece in my search. Now, I will just cross my fingers and hope that among all of those that have crushed my will to experience life in that way… fate will have finally turned in my favor. One can only hope.


rationalizing friendship October 27, 2007

Filed under: hell is other people — somniare @ 12:23 pm

It’s a real shame when you watch someone you care about become so damaged that they no longer resemble the person you knew. They’ve changed so much that they are more than willing to cut down everyone in their path. These people are shameless in their spreading of misery. What they fail to take into account is that sometimes their victims are much more broken than they are.

The ability to think rationally and understand that you can only be hurt by those you care about slips through the cracks. Ahh, rational thinking. Few give it credit for how rare it truly is. When emotions run high, they consume. You are ruled by what you feel at that very moment… succumb to an abandonment of all that you have learned from experience. All that is pure unadulterated truth dissolves to smoke as we manipulate and become manipulated by this blatant disregard.

We let our guards down, allow people to step in and affect us. They have power whether we acknowledge it or not. Friendship has become such a fickle sentiment. Easy to snap and glue back together over and over. We push away and pull back. All the while weakening the bond.

Is it worth it? I’m still trying to figure that out…


the usual chaos October 26, 2007

Filed under: on work — somniare @ 7:45 am

What I see day in and day out is typically enough to turn the stomachs of the strongest individuals.

Last night, once again the floor was hideously understaffed. I was split between working at the desk for the first 4 hours, going to a conference regarding the development of the hospital, then the remainder of my shift picking up a patient assignment on the floor. This was how things were supposed to work.

We had already had a deranged veteran on the floor who needed one to one supervision. This means that the hospital was supposed to designate someone from the nursing office to come and sit with the patient due to them having needs that were beyond the nursing staff on the floor to be able to accommodate on top of being able to take care of the rest of those on their assignment. This usually pertains to patients who are at risk for climbing out of bed, confused, ripping out their IVs or other medical devices, etc. and require someone to sit with them 24 hours a day to make sure they don’t hurt themselves in their mania. In the first hour of the shift, we received another patient in a state of dementia. Because the nursing office had already decided to leave the unit stranded without any help, someone had already been pulled from the floor to sit with the crazy veteran who screamed at everyone in military terms and then had to find someone else to sit with the new woman. That lucky person… me.

So I’m walking in (following the screams to find the correct room) and am greeted by 5 pairs of exasperated eyes as they were struggling to turn her to change the linens underneath her. She’s howling on and on, “This is TERRIBLE, I feel AWFUL!!!” But her favorite phrase was, “This is just ROTTEN, I feel ROTTEN.” This poor little woman in a state of complete degradation… she had to be the oldest person alive. Shame on me… all I could think about was, “Oh lord, if I ever get to this point where I don’t even realize that I have lost my dignity, please just remove me from the planet with swiftness.” I will spare you the gory details as to WHY this poor woman was brought to the hospital as the visual I’d create for you is one that would cause sleeplessness for years to come… well as an inability to every eat a grapefruit… yeah, you don’t want to know.

When the commotion was finished, I sat on the windowsill next to her bed as there was no chair for me and no one would take the time to bring me one. I sat and talked to her. She glanced at me with looks of disdain every now and then but refused to be baited into conversation. As she sat there looking away from me, I decided a different tactic was in order. I looked at her hunched shoulders as she struggled to get comfortable in thought with her head bent at such a crooked angle. Her arms were covered in goosebumps from having been recently stripped and exposed to the cold, dry air. She wouldn’t drink the lovely concoction otherwise known as a bowel prep that I was lucky enough to have to give her. So I walked up to the side of the bed, lowered the head a bit, pulled the pillow to the side so that her head would stop rolling off of it and put an extra blanket around her shoulders. I stepped back and she looked up at me with the clearest blue eyes, lucid and aware she said, “You are lovely. That is so much better. God bless you.” From there on out, she would listen to no one BUT me, she wouldn’t so much as look at anyone else. When the nursing office finally sent someone to relieve me, I said goodbye.

Later in the evening, I had to head off to the ridiculous conference regarding all of the new plans for the hospital. “Crucial Conversations” they call them. I had been to the first round of these talks and dreaded walking into this one. I am not shy about speaking up in these. I am no public speaker but for some reason, I feel the need to speak up for myself and those that have suffered with me for years on my struggling unit. I brought up a few points that got the entire room riled up and the conference ended up lasting nearly two hours throwing me way back in my work by the time I got back to the floor.

I walk back up to the unit and was met with what could be described only as pure chaos. They had blocked off multiple sections of the floor due to having to wax the floor so the halls were absolutely crammed with stretchers, equipment, linen and supply carts and employees weaving in and out like pedestrians during rush hour in NYC. The call lights above the patient’s rooms were lit up and down the halls like seizure inducing beacons. I was immediately assaulted by 3 or 4 people telling me about various things that needed my attention, “Go help them with the patient that was dropped off in 67… they didn’t even call report and the room wasn’t even clean yet, they are just sitting in the hall and no one knew they were coming!!” “The only aide scheduled to come in on the night shift called in! There’s no one to do midnight vital signs!” “There’s a stat blood draw in 58! Go get the bucket!” “I need a pre-op EKG in 76!” The list went on and on and my head just spun as I stood in the middle of this apocalypse. The last bit of news was the icing on the cake. The one to one from the nursing office had to leave at 9, you have to go sit with 54. Well, alright then… at least that saved me from all of the needy bastards that had the balls to launch a million things at me within seconds of returning to the floor.

I walked back in to the little old woman’s room. Sit back up on the window sill and look at her. She’d reverted to her epic pouting, sitting with her arms crossed, picking at her blanket in misery and wouldn’t so much as look at me. I sat quietly on the sill for about an hour. I decided to risk speaking with her again. She looks over at me, not quite lucid any longer but her emotions were sparked. She goes off on a barely coherent tangent about being degraded and how everyone is out for themselves. She was waving her arms in disgust at how the doctors and nurses are all out for themselves to merely get ahead in the world. Her treatment wasn’t about here any more, it was about a mission to boost egos and look better on paper. For some reason, I understood. I asked her if she had any children in an effort to steer the talk a different direction. It worked. She had one son whom she seemed to think the world of. “He’s a good boy… such a good boy.” She repeated this sentiment in various forms for a good half hour before she tired herself out. She spent the next 15 minutes contentedly staring at me when she thought I wasn’t looking. When the time came for me to leave as the relief for the night shift, I reported off to the nurse and stepped back up to the bedside. She reached out and took my hand and a smile lit her face in a way I would never thought imaginable. Youth and vitality just radiated. As I held her hand she says to me, completely coherent, “I have had my day and I want to enjoy the rest of my days. I will live through this as I have lived through everything else. You have been absolutely wonderful. Thank you so much for taking such good care of me when everyone else just left.” I would be lying if I said I wasn’t touched. I made a difference to someone. Whether she remembers me is not important, I will remember her.

I walked out and proceeded to help out with the midnight vitals for the next shift. I did my patient assignment (whom I never actually got to see over the course of the evening) and then helped out a bit extra. I got out 15 minutes late and my head and chest were killing me from breathing the fumes from the floor wax. I was untouched by it all though. I looked around at all of the miserable faces and felt a small little burning of hope for them all and the future of this unit 2800. I haven’t felt anything in months working there. Nights like this… well, they put life in perspective. Put my purpose into plain view. I am here, on this world, in this job, doing what I do for a reason. I slept like a baby that night.

I love my job.