Pleasant Dreams, Angela
Yesterday felt way more hectic than it actually was, but while it was happening I thought the sky looked fragile enough to break. Several times I wished for my heart to stop so I could avoid living through what ended up being just an ordinary day in spite of the pressure I felt inside. Nothing was actually wrong. It was all in my head.
Wendy asked me about how my day went after we finished eating dinner last night. I tried to explain how warped and tilted everything felt, pointing out where my fight-or-flight response kicked in and using a vocabulary that tripped her pattern recognition:
“Hun, it sounds like you’re going to have another panic attack.” She said
It’s honestly frustrating because a part of my mind is easily able to recognize that anxiety is something I’m generating, yet the other half of me never trusts the conclusion I’ve already reached. I think it’s the byproduct of an anxious mind, but I’ve recently been experiencing vivid day dreams. Not at all like real dreaming because I am absolutely awake, but while it’s happening, the conscious part of me slips into the background while the day dream takes over- it’s hard to describe because it isn’t like I become fully catatonic, but I’m consciously experiencing situations and having conversations in my mind that would likely never happen, based on something that would also, likely, never happen. It’s like experiencing a nightmare with the knowledge of it being a nightmare.
But none of it makes any sense. I feel like I’m so stupid for being so unable to control where my mind goes, but how much control can I expect to exert over spontaneous thoughts? It makes me think of the note that Walter leaves for Allie, which confirms that Nort died and that Walter did, in fact, bring him back to life. The note says something like:
“He remembers everything he saw, and he’ll tell you if you say the word Nineteen. You won’t be able to stop yourself. It’ll drive you crazy. And P.S. the word is Nineteen”
A word, an inflection, a look…