Sleep, disordered. Or haunted house.

I used to think that it was just a normal thing, to have nightmares every single night. Then it stopped happening, and I am not even sure quite when. The nightmares became less frequent, and often less scary. It's rare that I dream without it being a nightmare, but at least I wasn't waking up every night thinking that all of those horrible things were really happening.

Then, last night, I slept at my old house. The house I used to live in with my first husband. He caretakes for a disabled woman and needed me to help out with her while he went to the hospital with his wife and girlfriend so wife can have a baby.

Anyway, I had nightmares all night. Vivid, gripping nightmares. They may sound inocuous enough, in that I was dreaming that I was getting up to check that the door was locked, to check on the kids and the like. But I thought these things were actually happening. So when I dreamt that I checked the lock, because I was scared someone would come in and hurt the kids, I thought that there was really a lock on the door. There isn't. When I got up again, and then this morning, I saw that there is still no lock on the door, anyone can get in. These getting up in fear and checking on the kids dreams went on all night, interspersed with what I am pretty sure were times I actually checked on them. It was horrible.

I also had a night terror/hallucination. I'm not sure if I was completely awake, or if I was in that in between place of paralysis and fear. When this sort of thing happens, I cannot move or speak, even if I try to scream. Just nothing. All of the hair on my body stands on end, and there is an awful crawling feeling all over my body. Last night, a woman whispered, poured words into my ear, and I can't remember the words. It was something about "Sometimes they will..." and I keep thinking it had something to do with measurement. The words felt as if they were flowing into my ear on swirling air and filling my head. It was terrifying.

I hate it when that happens. All of my fears about psychosis ramp up, and I become convinced that I am only getting worse. That one day I won't be able to tell what is real according to the rest of the world.

Then again, maybe this house is haunted, and evil spirits really do exist. As miserable as I have been since I left this house, it is nowhere close to how miserable and constantly angry I was when I lived here. It's like I shed a skin of anger.