At 4:46, I struggled from sleep and unwound myself from the tangle of sheets and my bad dream. My pillow was soaked with tears. I rolled over and slid my hand across the cool sheets to wake the sleeper next to me, to say, “I just had the worst nightmare.â€ù But there was no one there. The dream had vanished entirely, and in its place a feeling more heavy and bewildering.
The shock of finding myself alone – despite the other half of my bed having been vacant for fistfuls of months – tore into me, leaving me confused and wounded. Still drunk on slumber, I cried for a minute or two longer, then wiped a bare forearm across my eyes and slid out of bed.
I wanted to call someone. A friend, a sister. To ask them to explain this to me. But calls at five o’clock in the morning are for emergencies, not half-dreamt misunderstandings. So I yanked on some jeans, pulled a sweatshirt over my camisole, and went across the street to the all-night diner.
In a booth, with one hand wrapped around a cup of coffee, I sat listening to the cook bicker with the bus boys for what must have been the better part of an hour. When I blinked back to reality, I was sitting with my right hand on my chest, two fingers pressed lightly over the shallow dent between my collar bones, melting into a spot at the base of my throat where it seemed my heart was lodged. I stayed this way, foggy-eyed and mournful, until my lust for sleep grew larger than my fear of solitude. And then I went home to bed.
I can relate. I rarely remember my dreams and when I do, they are dark and scary. The kind where you don’t want to rush back to sleep.
thank god for all night diners. i too can relate – it ends up hurting so bad and the fear takes your breath away
I had a very similiar awakening last night. Its always disorientating to open your eyes and find the accompanying pillow emtpy. I usually just cry myself back to sleep, glad you found a more constructive route…
May your other nights be filled with friends and happier dreams.
It never feels lonely, until you wake up in the middle of the night and reach for someone who’s not there.
Lately, I too have had these dreams. Sometimes, I’ll cry myself to sleep thinking I will never be a “we” or “us” and that I will never find that someone to wake up in the middle of the night. Then I breath, I take it all in and realize there is someone for everyone, as cliche as that may sound. Hang in there, we all should.
Jeez…you’ve made my heart jump up, too. If we were friends, you could totally call me at 5am, it’s not only for emergencies:)
I feel your pain Sunshine…wishing
I could be there for you. We could wake up in the morning to bad breath and nasty hair….. You would hate me I am one of those perky morning people.
I had the worst nightmare of my adult life last November. It was so bad I called my mom in Oklahoma at 3 am, and then never could get back to sleep, so I called in sick to work the next day. You can always call me, darlin.
Hey, my heart goes out to you , I know the feeling. Hope you’re feeling better now !
Ah, the all-night diner. Something that’s just not understood here across the pond. Hugs to you, H… hope all is better now.
No matter how bad the dream, it’s the waking up alone when you’re used to someone being there that’s the worst. The moment in between waking and sleeping when it’s still possible to fool your self by thinking that you still can feel and smell that one person that makes it all the more sad.
Thank God you had access to a diner and thank God I’m not the only one who is willing to go out with clothes over their pj’s.
It gets better Fish.
I hope your night terrors are few and far between, being in such a volnerable situation, lonley. I wish you restful sleep so that endurance and strenth are easier to muster when you need them xoxoxo.
my grandmother woke one night to hear granddaddy coughing. he offered to go sleep in the other room to avoid keeping her awake. she said, “you silly old man, we’ve been sleeping together over 50 years; stay in our bed.” when she woke,he was gone. she thought that he had gone to sleep in the other room. then she remembered, he had been gone from her life for over 5 years. she still missed him terribly, but her dreams of him comforted her greatly.
sometmes even though there is a body next to you there is still a void waiting to be filled.
Who keeps their cell by their bed for just such occasions? ME…I may be a little bit mumbly at first but you can always call me! Heck, half the time I am up then anyway. Feel better chica! TTYL
Awww, Heather. That was an excellent piece of writing, and I feel for you.
The thing is, even when we sleep with someone every night, we are still alone. I’ve discovered that with my husband and son.
Still, we share a lot along the journey and that is nice. I know you will have that some day. Statistically, it would be hard to avoid it.
I feel for you, I’ve had to wake up to things like that, too. It’s a feeling that, thankfully, I hear is easy to forget once someone is there.
I wish we had all night diners across the street here.
dinkylee’s comment about her/his grandparents made me cry. What a beautiful experience.
I thought I was the only one who fell into palpable depressions because of dreams. I never remember them, just the feeling. Good call on the coffee, though. I normally just head back to sleep for more torture.
The grass is always greener, my friend. It’s even worse when you wake up and FIND the person there across the bed. Because then you have to deal with the dreams and, deal with what to do with them.
That is pretty sad. But you know what’s just as sad? Having a dream where you have a heart attack or slip off in the bathtub at home and there is no wife or kids to help you or notify someone.
In high school, a friend’s dad was in Singapore on a business trip. He slipped on the bathtub while getting out and broke some bones. As he lied on the floor in tears and not being able to move for hours, the only help he got was when my friend’s mom decided to call the hotel after not hearing from him for hours.
I do not want to end up in that kind of a situation at home! But I still keep my fingers crossed that one day I’ll rouse up from a bad dream and hug the sleeper next to me for comfort.
Beatiful and haunting post.
Dreams like that are the worst. Completely unsettling. Having someone else in the bed sometimes helps, and sometimes you just need to vacate that bed and get some blood back into your completely bewildered brain. I’ve had to head to the diner on a number of ocassions. At least the coffee is usually good and I like those cheap porcelain mugs they give it to you in.
The diner was a good idea. I have woken up the last two mornings at five because of my head and how it won’t stop thinking and thinking and thinking– I just stay in bed thinking it will pass.
i had something similar happen to me once–it was such a lonely feeling it took days to shake off.
lovely writing, as always.
There is an all-night diner across the street from my place – it has been a refuge in times of need, or when I need a place where I can write and eat pie late at night. Here’s a post of mine that you might appreciate: http://upholsteredwalls.blogspot.com/2006/03/me-myself-and-pie.html
Happy (Inter)National De-Lurking Week from Nova Scotia, Canada!
You do the haunting thing so well…
You’re so beautiful when you’re melancholy.
But I hope you feel better soon!
that just made me feel so sad, most likely because I have been in that same place recently
Sad, beautiful, haunting – The kind of writing that sticks with you and REALLY makes you examine your life. Brilliant – Thank you.
PS – I’m STILL singing “My Hands Are Bananas” – Thanks for sharing it.
Maybe it’s something in the air- I’ve been having awful, wake-up-in-the-night dreams almost every night recently. For the first time ever. It’s not restful.
jealous of your diner across the street… i was wishing for someplace like that just last week. instead i stared at my ceiling and attempted to think of the positives to being single.
In my head I’m picturing the whole thing like the last chapter of a movie. Hitting the street, looking both ways, a chill in the air as we see your breath in the city lights, which also dance in the wet streets. You cross midblock to get there, sit alone in a streetside booth. The camera zooms out from through the window as you hold your coffee in front of you looking through the passing traffic.
I very sincerely hope this isn’t my last chapter!
A lot of folks broke out their Cure and Depeche Mode tapes because of this entry.
I listen to Depeche Mode… just about every day.
Hope you are having pleasant dreams again soon.
I’m glad that I’m not the only one who feels this way. I think the only thing worse is when you wake up and they are still there, but you know the lonely feeling will be back and 10 times worse the next night/morning.
It seems that women all over the country wake from their dreams weepy and lonely for someone…similarly I woke on saturday morning weeping missing a man who isn’t worth the energy…but it’s there just the same..the grief after months of sleeping alone.
I read your blog this morning around 4:00 when I just woke up from having a nightmare and not having someone to to be there. I used to have my baby raerae(cat) but she just recently passed away and now it’s even harder. Until I read your blog. Not saying in a bad way. It is calming to know I am not the only one that goes through morning like this.
Ahhh, beautiful writing. I loved it!
My ex snored and farted alot so, I am OK sleeping alone – for now…..
Heather- I feel for you. Being alone is depressing and stressful for anyone. I know that there is someone out there who is your perfect match.
I found mine by going on a dating crusade. I subscribe to the idea that the larger the sample space, the higher the probability of finding a match.
No matter the discomfort, it’s better to be out there kissing a lot of frogs than waking early in the morning and listening to the bicker of the bus boys.
Remember, advice is worth what you pay for it
Wow… that made me feel incredibly sad…
You’re so lucky to have an all-night diner across the street.
Your writing is beautifully haunting, like so many already pointed out.
Ineffable moments of loneliness and tears that are dewdrops;
too wet not to trickle, and dry enough to wriggle out flakes of pain and us.