I didn't write that line. It's actually the first line in Stephen King's introduction in his anthology Night Shift. Seeing as how he's as qualified as anyone to discuss the subject, I figured it rather apropos.
It's one thing to have a bad dream that wakes you up in the middle of the night.
It's another thing entirely to have dreams that made you afraid to even put your head on the pillow or turn the light off.
For nearly 20 years, I've had a recurring nightmare that seemed to be waiting for me when I fell asleep every night. It didn't involve monsters, or spiders (of which I am an unabashed sissy about), or drowning, or things lurking under my bed or in the closet. My consistent vision was of me waking up from what I found to be a long dream and everything I'd achieved and seen in that time had all been a figment of my imagination.
And in reality, I'd never left the one place I never wanted to be in the first place and never, ever want to see again. I was back and I was never leaving.
When I was little, I doubt I had any more bad dreams than the average kid. At least, if I did, I don't remember them. But I know this much, going to sleep knowing with some certainty that before you wake up again, your mind will create a scenario that makes you question the very nature of reality, sleep quickly becomes an option, rather than a necessity.
Math has never been my strong suit, but I know how many nights I should've been asleep to get ready for work or class the following morning and my ex-wife would find me wide awake either playing video games, dinking around on the internet, watching TV or doing something, anything, other than putting my head on a pillow and getting some rest.
When I became single again, I'd like to tell you it got easier to deal with, but it didn't. If anything, my mind ratcheted it up another notch and rather than waiting for me to go to sleep, it would start churning out things right when I was on the cusp of sleeping. They were often worse nightmares too. Like I was stuck in horrifying situations that made Saw and The Texas Chainsaw Massacre seem like a Mel Brooks screwball comedy.
That was usually when the spiders showed up, if I'm honest, and they sure weren't Charlotte either.
In all the years since they started, I'd tried just about everything to make them go away. Warm milk, exercise, melatonin pills, reading books, taking walks, going on drives, you name it, I've probably done it.
And I like sleep. Very much so. I had then and still have a comfortable bed and pillows. I have clean sheets that keep me warm at night and when I get a full night of restful sleep, I suspect I feel as good as anyone else does.
At this point, trying to determine the exact origin of the nightmare is probably not worth the time. The nice thing is that since my Yin usurped my Yang as the dominant voice in my head, it hasn't come back. Not once. Even better still...the spiders are gone too.
For that, I am even more grateful.
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