organized chaos

I was diagnosed with narcolepsy about 6 years ago. I’ve spent much of my life in and out of the Dr. trying to find out why I was so tired all the time as a kid and then as an adult. It was a relief to know.

Occasionally this disorder grants me a trip into the Twilight Zone. We’re talking hallucinations in the middle of the night, paralysis when I wake up, talking in my sleep, and yes, laughing in my sleep.

That last one doesn’t happen too often, but when it does, it’s quite a ride. Any time I talk or vocalize in any way while sleeping gives me a certain sensation that usually wakes me up somewhat. Last night, My Man shook me awake while I was having this dream. When I woke up enough I remember the laughter caught in my throat finally made it’s way to the surface and I started cracking up.

He asked what was wrong, so I guess it didn’t sound like laughter to him at first. He said he thought I was having one of my “freak outs.” That’s a nice scientific term for it. Before I knew it, I was laughing so hard, tears were streaming down my face and I could scarcely breathe.

Of course he wanted to know what I had been dreaming about. After a full five minutes of laughter I tried to eek out something about me and Bon Jovi fighting Karate style and how I was using raw slabs of red meat to throw at him in between the match (for extra leverage, I guess), and the sound of the meat on the sidewalk, thwap!, was just too much, and I started to crack up. That’s what he heard when he tried to wake me up.

Usually when I try to portray what I had been laughing at, it makes no sense to him or me, and he usually questions to himself what he got into with this marriage ten years ago, and exactly what kind of lunatic did he vow to spend his life with anyway?

But when I finally caught my breath, because I really could not stop giggling, and told him, “You probably don’t think that’s very funny,” he said, “No, that’s pretty funny.” I’m sure he actually meant what I was doing was funny. Not ha ha funny, but “maybe I should call the mental hospital funny.” “Or perhaps I should slip her a prozac funny.” “Or maybe I should just sleep in another bed funny.” Who knows?

Equally disturbing is having a dream so intense, I cry in my sleep also. I’ve woke up with tears streaming down my face and a sense of sorrow so intense, I was sure the dream had been real. Personally, I prefer the laughter. Whether or not that grants me permanent residence in Rod Serling’s tv show, well that is up to you to decide.