PTSDreaming

Sleep is trying to overtake me. I try to fight but the medications win every time. It doesn't take long for the demon to pull me into the abyss of the sub-conscious. He is powerful, relentless. Unforgiving. His only goal is to replay the trauma of my past. My sub-conscious mind is owned by the night. By Him. His power is nocturnal. In formidable. The result of 20 years of bondage between myself and my sub-conscious. He hates the fact others know of Him. He's afraid. Afraid of being locked away in the place where memory has no hold.Afraid of losing His power over me. My nightmares are getting desperate.I have no chemicals to quiet Him. To tame Him the way it was before His creation. He seems to be getting stronger. My therapist tells me to give Him no quarter. Take away His name. Take away any and all of His power. I practice ways of stealing His power by taking away any credit for my sleep problems. Self talk. Self-awareness.The more I learn about PTSD the stronger the demon gets.It's not supposed to work that way. Coping skills are a way of dealing with problems of the light. It seems nothing works for the night. Colonel Reginald DeBarge. Full bird. In life a smart, witty gentleman with a heart of gold. In death He lives on in my mind.Why? I ask God to take Him away. Erase Him from my memory. Give me peace. Rest. Freedom from fear of the night. He is affecting my light, too. Isolation. I stay away from crowds.He watches me but hasn't had the courage to confront me in my world. The light. He knows His power is limited, if non existent, during the day. He patiently waits, knowing I can't stay awake, forever. The dark is His stage. He knows I can't escape the night so he waits. Like a small child waiting on the tooth fairy knowing He won't come while awake. So, the child, with excitement, hurries to fall asleep. I envy that child's innocence. His beautiful, bountiful sleep. theblogmeister