After last night, you should consider yourself lucky if I don’t have your phone number. Here are a few of the texts I woke to find having sent in my stupor:
“Ambien + Yelawolf = WTF Santa”
“My grilled cheese sandwich might have AIDS”
“I told the vampires to stay in the bathroom so I could sleep but they might not listen. You can shut the hall door.”
Since I spent the weekend not being able to sleep with the recurring neuropathy, yesterday afternoon I decided to take an Ambien in the hopes I’d be able to fall asleep after dinner and be well-rested for a bitch of a work week. I guess my body’s forgotten what drugs do this far after my last surgery.
The first time I took Ambien was after surgery, and the bathroom tiles were having a dance party around my feet. When I took a pill the next day I watched the words on my Kindle dance around and off the page. Most commonly, there would be alien vampires in the bathroom waiting in the tub for me to have to get up and pee. They never left the bathtub so I was fairly certain they weren’t real after the first time they appeared
Stone-cold sober, I’ve had super vivid dreams ever since I was a little girl, and have had the odd hallucination even in the middle of the day. (Yes, I know, it’s probably better that I get into the neurologist sooner than later) Add Ambien and opiates, and, well…
If you ever get weird texts from me about aliens or vampires, or maybe tiny pictures on my phone, please just convince me to go back to bed.