It really is night time now - it's 0200, and everything is dark and soundless. I dreamt that I was back at MOD, but the age I am now, and having lunch with a naval Captain called Nick. I wanted to pay but Nick wouldn't let me - the bill was £37.76. We went to the Boss's office where he was sitting - he said "you're really fat, Hannah, what are we going to do about it?" I told him about the drugs, but he told me he'd weigh me every day until I lost weight. I looked in a mirror and saw that I had tremendously long, curly, brown hair, with a short fringe. I tried to catch a bus home, but they wouldn't stop for me. Then I woke up, in such a sweat that I had to change my pyjamas. My feelings during the dream were: shame, anger and irritation that anyone could have power over me at my age. I knew, in the dream, that I was too old to be back in the RAF, but I couldn't articulate that.
So, what to make of that? Tracy and I talked about my weight during her visit, and I am ashamed of my weight, even though most of it is due to the drugs. I am angry that my career was cut short by illness, at the power that others had to change my life, when I didn't want it changed. And finally, I am irritated that leaving the RAF in the way that I did can still affect my dreams.
I think it's time to discuss my nightmares, however horrid that may be.
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?