The return, in full force of the insomnia that I thought I had done with once and for all was a bitter disappointment.
For the last week, sleep has been a hit and miss thing.
It has brought with it, good deal of fretting about when the world will return to any recognisable form of normal life.
A few months back I listened on audible to the Stephen King’s set of short stories with the title of If it Bleeds. I have been a Stephen King fan for a very long time and always have the next book pre-ordered as soon as I get the notice in. During the strange experience of these last seven and a half months in my case, I have thought a lot about some of Kingy’s books.
Quite a few of them have come to mind as close to home in the present situation. My all-time favourite is The Stand. I have read that twice.The similarity makes me go it bit wiggly-woggly. SK doesn’t scare me by the way. No covering my eyes, or turning off.
In the latest book, If It Bleeds, pretty much all of those stories have seemed to me as though they were written at this time rather that before this time. I keep telling people not to be surprised when the lights really do start to blink out one by one.
On another level about the state of the world right now, yesterday Steve and I watched a You Tube slot where Russell Brand has a lot to say too. This is mostly about the President of the United States, and Brand doesn’t sound like a comedian while he is banging on there either. Go Russell.
Anyway, my mind has been doing turbo charged overtime chewing over life during Covid. I have had a lot of very colourful dreams during the nights when I do get to sleep for a while. Sometimes I have no idea where these ideas came from. There has been a lot for bright, bright colours, and shapes, all huge and lots of movement. Some nights I have hardly slept at all and then occasionally, I sleep the sleep of the dead.
Exhaustion I suppose.
I have often been accused of having an over active imagination. I console myself with the thought that it is better to be over-active rather than non-active.
As to activity Stephen and I
were joined once again this morning by our friend Birgit.
She is happy to join in our slight increase in the normal Sunday run distance from 10 km to 8 miles. She has put in an entry for the next London Marathon and so a gradual jump up in leg miles will fit into her life well right now.
We seem to have stuck there for a while, since today was our fifth consecutive 8-mile run. Three or four times a week right now. Plus turbo sessions and You Tube classes. No swimming yet for me.
We go to bed something short of 9.30pm and Steve goes straight to sleep.
I read for a bit before I turn the light out.
If I sleep, I sleep and if not a recite to myself.
Right now, it is still,
Bright Star by Keats
Ozymandias by Shelley
And Psalm 23 that I still pretty much remember from singing in the choir at school.
Quite out of the blue, last night a had a dream in which Robin Brew featured strongly. A really nice dream for a change.
Robin was an Olympic swimmer
long before he took up triathlon and was racing elite when I first started.
I fact at my very first triathlon with an open water swim, Robin was standing just in front of me at the edge of the lake waiting for the swim start. He moved on to longer triathlon events and so did Steve and I. We have raced in quite a few events where Robin was also competing though of course he was elite and we were racing age group.
We attended a number of the triathlon courses he conducted and always enjoyed them enormously. He is a lovely guy and I always had a bit of a soft spot for him as my husband would tell him!
He still takes loads of courses and a lot were based at Club La Santa in Lanzarote. We both would highly recommend giving him a try.
Back to my dream, I had flashes from my many chats with Robin over the years. Including the time, we were comparing the blisters on our feet after racing the Hawaii Ironman whilst waiting for our flight home.
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