By Published on

Friday 21st June 2025 - 3:06am

A meme using Lisa Simpson presenting at a whiteboard with the cheeky observation: "Nightmares are just free horror movies that you produce, direct, and star in." Lisa stands in her red dress, pointing at the board with typical earnest enthusiasm, delivering this amusing take on the silver lining of bad dreams - at least you're getting a complete cinematic experience without the cinema ticket prices!

I have this recurring nightmare that I can't find my husband. I'm distressed, but I just can't remember why or where he's gone or if he's coming back. But I keep trying to call him, and the number '7' has vanished from my phone, so I can't dial his number, as if it were some cruel cosmic joke.

I try to go home, but not home to our purple cottage where we live now - some house we lived in over 20 years ago. But I keep getting lost. All the roads merge into places I've lived in my past, like my brain's playing some twisted version of Snakes and Ladders with my memories.

Distressed, I bump into people I know, but they're all from my past, and they think I'm bonkers. I'm beginning to think Paul has left me, and all these different faces and places race through my mind. It makes no sense, but I woke up upset and unsettled, heart hammering against my ribs.

I need to go back to sleep - my body's knackered and tomorrow's going to be hard enough without being sleep-deprived. But I'm so tired yet worried that if I fall asleep, I'll fall back into that feeling of being lost without him again.

3am thoughts that probably shouldn't see daylight:

The dream feels so real while it's happening. The panic, the confusion, the desperate need to find Paul and get home. Maybe it's my brain processing all the uncertainty that's been swirling around lately - the health stuff, the benefit worries, the upcoming counselling. When everything else feels unstable, losing Paul in my dreams feels like losing my anchor.

Current status:

  • Time: 3:06am (why do the worst thoughts always come at stupid o'clock?)
  • Sleep score: Probably in negative numbers
  • Anxiety levels: Through the roof
  • Number of times I've checked Paul's still in bed: Three

Can anyone decipher dreams? Or is it just my brain's way of telling me I'm more anxious about everything than I'm admitting to myself?

It may be time to buy a dream catcher. Can't hurt, right?

Today's hope:

That when I finally fall back asleep, my dreams will be boring. Give me dreams about doing the washing up or watching paint dry. Anything but losing the people I love in a maze of my own making.

Right, going to try again. Paul's snoring gently beside me, the cats are scattered around the house in their various sleeping spots, and I'm safe in our purple cottage. Sometimes you need to remind yourself of the real things when your brain tries to convince you otherwise.

Sha x

#WheelyHappyDays #3amThoughts #RecurringNightmares #AnxietyDreams #NeedSleep #WheelchairLife #ChronicAnxiety