Nightmares

Back in March, I think, I told you about what dreams are to someone with complete amnesia: weird.  I had the same dream every night from November through into March, when I had an exception dream of being in France.  Really a memory.  Then it was back to the same old dream again without end.

That is still true, one constantly recycling dream.  I really do not understand why.  How much pain can a destroyed male mind take?  Apparently more than I want ...

So this past week I had a tiny break.  Same dream every night as always but I had a few others along the way.  Again, they are all back in France.  I have no idea why France is stuck in my mind ... it was the best of times, but also was absolute worse of times.

There was the dream about Daphne Summers (Sommers) and how I had trusted her in fifth grade and the utter brutality I was to suffer at the hands of my fifth grade class.  That really sucked to have to remember!

Climbing the 20 million stairs from lower Laon to upper, where the cathedral is.  Knowing I am not going to make it.  Sometimes wanting a drink but there is nowhere to get one.  Wanting to use a toilet but again you have to make it to the top first ...  my eyes would water at the memories of that one!

Walking from Tergnier railstation to Quessy Centre, a long walk.  It is always hot.  It is always too far.  I am always fearful - Ternier was where five of my friends where slaughtered for being "American" during the May Day riots of 1966.  Some were actually British, some Canadian, maybe two were American.  There is no rationalizing violence, much less against children by a gang of drunks armed with swords, especially during a riot!  My little German family lived in Quessy Centre - abount two miles and a world away from Tergnier ...

And the worst dream, the one that jolted me out of bed early one morning:
I was in a large room with lots of people.
Names were called and people sent off in different directions.
And they called, Kris and all of its variants.
So I went with what few Kris' there were.
We were taken to another room and told that unless we played the clarinet, we could not go to heaven!
I was devastated, I have NO musical ability what so ever!
I can sing (and relearning how to do so slowly).
I can whistle (and again having to relearn!).
But, an instrument?
Nope
It seems Kris can not go to Heaven and must remain in that room practicing what is impossible for Kris to do ...

Why are these dreams always of France?
Why are these dreams always of pain?
What is my mind trying to work through?
This is like having PTSD, only from being a NATO BRAT, not a soldier in battle.  And why 50 years later!?!?!?!?

My doctor wants me to have a sleep study to see if there is a sleep related cause for my complete amnesia ... really?  I, whose dreams are torments, am supposed to try and sleep somewhere else?  I do not, can not, sleep well, unless I have a mighty hard bed and feel completely safe.  Been a few years since that was true however ...

Maybe I will go take a nap.