So much for wanting to sleep a whole night through. I woke all tangled up in cats, and I'd been pushed to the end of the bed with no duvet. Worse than having a husband. Actually, no. I'd been having a dream about being on stage and forgetting my lines, something I dream about quite often. My dreams are intricate and detailed, and often feature the end of the world. My Freudian analyst used to have a field day telling me what they meant, but I didn't usually agree with her, as she believed that all woman suffered from inadequacy when compared with men. At least I'm having ordinary dreams and not the nightmares I get when I'm depressed.
Made myself a cup of hot milk - again - to try to settle down, but it never works for me. When I did nights on the psychiatric ward, everyone had a hot drink at about 2100 to help them sleep - I always thought a good slug of alcohol would be better. It used to help me.
Daisy is fully recovered and eating for two - she's sitting on the kitchen table next to me as I type.
I spent 16 years in the RAF defending the Free World , then got bunged out unceremoniously for being bipolar. I and was subsequently diagnosed with PTSD. Funny old world, isn't it?