Talk about waking up on the wrong side of the bed...

I was up til 4am again last night - which is actually not last night anymore, nor was it ever the night. It was 4am, thus it was the morning, and 'last' would imply yesterday, but it is infact, after midnight again so it's technically tomorrow already...phew. For the record no matter how late it is (or in the wee hours of the morning), for me it is still the day I am living that I refer to when I say "today." So it's now been 'Thursday' for almost 30 minutes, but I will still be calling it Wednesday until I actually go to bed. Speaking of bedtimes, guess who else is still awake...

Yes, so he's been up since 8:30 this morning when he literally flung himself out of bed. He's a wonder to behold: The kid who can go for days without sleep and still function! At exactly 8:30am I snuffed my nose just loud enough to wake Jacob from whatever dream he was having. Even though he was on the total other side of the bed, he made it close enough to me to start pushing me and yelled for me to, "Stop it!" Then he violently kicked off the covers, also kicking me in the process, after which he sort of slapped me across the face. It sounds worse than it was; his aim was off and it was more funny to me than anything else. Then he thrashed hard enough to send himself over the edge of the bed, layed in a heap for about five seconds, picked himself up and made a mad dash for the top of the stairs. He ran down the stairs and Zach brought him up a minute later because he was leaving for work. Jacob carried on for a couple more minutes and I was able to at least get in a sentence between the shrieks. "You are being very disrespectful and I don't deserve this treatment. You can finish having your tantrum, but when you are done I expect an apology." or something like that is how I put it. He pretty much gave it up after that and climbed into bed with a soft, "I'm sorry," then, "Can we snuggle?"

What is with the two of us and these bad dreams? He's physically looking more and more like Zach, but I swear, some of the stuff he's been doing lately gives me the feeling of staring into an alarmingly revealing mirror. On Sunday morning after that nightmare of mine, I was awake for an hour and then finally fell back asleep. And the dream came back. It was slightly altered though, this time about Ginger. I think 'Ginger' was code for either my mom, or me as a mother, since her main classification is 'mother'. Latent meaning or not, it freaked the hell out of me, but this time there was no real life phone call to wake me up. So my dream created one just when things were getting scary as shit. Guess who it was that called in my dream. My own mother. Wonder if that means anything. This time I woke up right in the thick of it, and I'm actually too embarrassed to write about what the next ten minutes where like. I'll say though that Zach really wanted me to stop because he didn't want me to scare Jacob (who came up halfway through and cuddled with me to make me feel better).

Is it any wonder why I never want to go to sleep?

By the way, the phone call on Sunday morning at 8am happened again on Monday, then Tuesday, and Wednesday. 8am each time, then either a machine recording, or nothing. Telemarketers. Who do they think they are?. We are not awake at 8am. We are still one big nightmare away from even beginning to think about getting out of bed. Zach *69'd it this morning and called the number back. He told them to stop calling and reports that he used the F-word. I'm so proud of him! He's usually so non-confrontational, I can't believe he took the initiative to do that all on his own.

Anyway, LOST was on tonight after a very long hiatus. I'm getting a little sick of their crap. They say they know where the show is going so you keep watching and holding out hope that you won't be let down. But I have had enough. I've been saying I'll still watch it, just not devote all the extra time and effort to theorizing every little detail, but I honestly don't think I can stomach it anymore. I was going to say it's getting too scary for me, but 'can't stomach it' fits. All I can think about is the torture chamber and how that is someone's kid. I picture him as a three year-old, or I picture a grown Jacob like that and I want to rip my eyes out so the image stops repeating itself in my head. I knew it was coming, I heard the techno music before they even opened the door, and then I saw the flashy images and I knew what was happening...about the time the IV drip came into view I thought I was going to lose it, but I just stood there like an idiot letting it all put its mark on my psyche. When they showed his face I ran from the room, fists covering my ears.

I'm working on a rational explanation to give myself; they were giving him drugs to make him happy - he'd only been in there a few minutes, etc - but I'm actually just hoping for total repression on this one. So I'll keep feeding myself the line that it's not real, but deep down I know it happening to someone. Right now. And there's nothing I can do about it.