Dreams are my reality – thankfully not

It’s hot these days. Very hot. But I am lucky and am currently sleeping in my parents’ guest room which is in the cellar, it’s nice and cool down there. I have also, after a few backache inducing nights on unfamiliar territory, taken my memory foam mattress out of storage and decided sleeping on the floor with that one is the better option, despite looking like a very temporary camp site. Particularly since I don’t know yet how long I will be a guest at home.

After having had some restful nights now this morning was quite different. When I woke up I felt like several tanks had been running over me right after that elephant herd decided to practice their Riverdance routine on me. And my cheeks were wet from tears.

I don’t remember all the details, although I do remember that it was one of those horrifically detailed and very vividly real dreams, but the general topic was that one day before I left London to come back to Hamburg my mum had called to tell me that my dad had died.

I then spent the entire day to move all my stuff out of the house there and tried to get storage space so that I could fly over immediately. Nothing I tried to organise worked, public transport was suspended everywhere, no neighbours or friends to lend a hand, no taxis, not one person picking up their phone. NOTHING I needed to do could be done. I have never felt as helpless as in that dream.

I am not a morning person anyway, but trying to get going this morning after that nightmare took me even longer than usual and the entire day I have been in a terribly distracted mood and totally absentminded.

I am just glad that when I woke up I just needed to walk up one flight of stairs to see my parents happily sitting on the terrace drinking their tea and reading the morning paper. I have no idea why I dreamt this, it can’t have been the heat, but usually my dreams are a more comedy-like remix of what has crossed my path during the past days. The last nightmare I remember I had when I was a kid, no more than 7 years old, which was a reoccurring one over several months.

I am not worried that I will have this dream again, or at least not any time soon. However, it got me thinking and it reminded me of how closely our minds and bodies are connected. Nice long eight hours sleep don’t help your body if your mind decides to cause havoc.

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