Having dinner last night with friends, and Mr. Stuck declares that on Saturday night, I must have been having a bad dream, because I was yelling, “Help! Help!” in my sleep. I don’t remember doing it, and I don’t remember the dream, thankfully. When I yell like that, I’m normally struggling or fighting against the dream, and the yell comes out despite the strangling paralysis of sleep.
Mr. Stuck says, “It’s not a good way to wake up, let me tell you.”
I was afraid of this. Opening that journal opened up the corresponding emotions that had settled like silt on the floor of my heart. Now they are stirred up, and God only knows what will come of that.