To Sleep, Perchance to Dream; Aye, There’s the Rub…

March 4th, 2011.  CD8.

Maybe the bard had it right…

Sleep can be overrated, especially when said restful repose is plagued by horrifying nightmares about innocent playground games.  Which, obviously was Hamlet’s problem as well.


There were no ducks in my nightmare, and no geese. Only zombie children.

Thank the lord that tomorrow is my last day of meds this month!  Though my dosage has not increased, the Clomid has proven to be no less potent this cycle than last.  I’ve had all of the same side effects:  hot flashes, night sweats, an “empty-pit” kind of feeling in my stomach no matter how much food I put in it… and the nightmares.

Ooooh, the nightmares.

Now, I’m not talking about that faceless, shadowy figure chasing me through a dark alleyway kind of a nightmare.  I’m talking vivid, out-of-body-experience-type dreams about a dark and grisly Seasame Street with zombies, duck-duck-goose with undead children, and grinning, caped axe murderers chopping happily away at scattered limbs spraying comical amounts of blood.  It was like Saving Private Ryan meets Night of the Living Dead meets Army of Darkness… but far more graphic and far less funny.

Maybe Ophelia wasn’t mad after all, maybe she was just taking the generously prescribed fertility herbs of her day.  Maybe the nightmares caused insomnia.  Maybe the lack of sleep caused her delirium, leaving her no choice but to drown herself in shallow water.  This is a sentiment with which I am terribly familiar at the moment.

Although I think that drowning myself in the bottom of a pint of ice cream is probably more my style.

On a lighter note…  One More Pill (!) and then it’s Sexy-Time: No-Holds-Barred.

Don’t be jealous.  We’re just making babies over here.  *winkyface*



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