Night Terrors

James is starting to accumulate evidence of my mental demise, so that it will be easier for him to have me sectioned under the Mental Health Act. Apparently, it's just his way of showing he cares. And he is, after all a doctor, so must know what is best for me.

Last night, I provided him with more evidence.

The time was approximately 3 am. Our peaceful sleep was broken by a yelp, which allegedly came from me. I then sat up in bed, hyperventilating somewhat, my heart racing. In my semi-conscious state I was terrified, and desperately looking around the room, trying to locate the window for a source of light. In the midst of my panic, Jamie's calm voice asked me if I was okay. "NO!" I said, extremely agitated, "I have absolutely no idea where I am!". He gently told me that I was in my bedroom, at the cottage. "Oh", I said. And promptly put my head back on my pillow and fell fast asleep.

I told my sister. "Night terrors", she informed me: "children get them all the time".

Well, I bet children don't preceed their night terrors with dreams like mine. I dreamt that I was in an open prison which was rather like a secondary school. James needed to talk to me in private and the only suitable place for our conversation was a toilet cubicle. Like the toilet cubicles they have in secondary schools, all linked up with gaps over and below the doors. A nice setting in which he chose to inform me that he considered me a whore. "A whore?!", I asked, obviously rather upset and confused, "but why??". "Because", he growled at me, "despite all my explanations, you still can't remember how an air rifle functions".

Worrying, very worrying indeed.

And when I woke up this morning, there was a bunny in my garden, munching contentedly on a clover patch. "God, I wish I had an air rifle", James said, as my eyes widened in terror...