Today I had dinner with my sister and we talked about anxiety dreams. This must be a familial thing. Often I wake up with vague memories--faces melting, walking into a hysterectomy only to find all the laparoscopic tools have been replaced with kitchen sponges--ridiculous scenarios that bring an old familiar sense of dread.
Lately I've been having trouble sleeping. I sip rye whiskey and wait for sleep that never comes. There is a low level of anxiety that permeates my life, shapeless and misdirected.
Good job Dr. Frustrated.
