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I woke up crying this morning from a bad dream. Just a little bit of tears, not sobbing or anything. Ever since I’ve gotten clean and sober, this happens once in awhile. It’s a little distressing, but there are worse things.

Last night I dreamt I was in a psych hospital. It’s one of my worst fears, and always has been. In my dream, I had a twit of a roommate who was just dumb as a box of rocks. I was calm and cooperative with the staff, but mostly acted as though they weren’t really there. I have no idea why I was there.

After awhile, the psychiatrist came in to the room and was observing and talking to us. I was probably being a bit snotty and condescending, since I didn’t know why I was there and stuck with a half-wit roommate. The psych produced a bottle of bubbles, which the roommate excitedly started playing with. I rolled my eyes at the twit, ignored the whole thing, and continued reading a book.

Later I was writing a postcard. To myself. (OK, it’s a dream, weird things happen in dreams) and the psych came back in and offered up computer cables – I guess the equivalent of privileges for getting online. I know that they’d never provide cables to patients in a real psych hospital since you could hang yourself with them. I shrugged this off too; I had my iPhone, after all. The psych seemed surprised at my disinterest. The roommate was delighted, gathered up the cables, and scampered off. I was glad she was gone.

But then I realized I was going to run out of battery on my phone; it was at 59% charge. I asked the orderly if I could have it charged, and she said no. I said, can you just charge it at the nurse’s station – no. I started crying into my pillow – not just crying, but sobbing – because without my phone, I would be totally cut off from everything (although in this dream, I wasn’t actually using it!) Another orderly saw that I was all upset and came in to ask what was wrong. I said that the first orderly said I couldn’t have my phone charged. I said that I didn’t want the charger itself (it too could be used as a ligature) but just wanted to be able to power the device. He said, oh, OK, that’s fine. So I stopped crying.

Later the roommate came back and brought some guy friend. I ignored them both, and somehow now I had my iPad as well. I listened to music on it, again didn’t even get online – I think it was just the comfort of knowing that I could even work on my dissertation, as long as I had the mobile device/s. The roommate and her friend must have thought I was a total bitch. Since I had no idea why I was there, it seemed perfectly logical to me to act superior and ignore them, because I didn’t belong there (actually, my therapist told me last time I saw him that I’d be a bad candidate for a psych hospital!)

But then the psych came back again and told me I was going to be there for awhile. Cue the tears, and fortunately my alarm went off – playing Israel Kamakawiwo’ole singing his Somewhere Over the Rainbow medley. Rolled over and my hubby was there next to me, and everything was suddenly just fine.

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