Thursday, June 30, 2011

Bad News and Good News

It’s going to be an unpleasant night.  I have a sleep disorder and I’ve gone and let a prescription run out.  My brain is broken – for whatever reason, current theories being an auto-immune disorder, I’m lacking the proper amount of certain cells.  These cells produce a specific chemical.  The chemical regulates sleep.  Without it, the brain shifts gear at inappropriate times – it tries to shift into wave patterns at the wrong times.  Or not at all.   Without my medication, tonight will be spent on the edge of sleep, never in deep sleep, but constantly dreaming.  I will realize I’m dreaming, and fight to awaken.  I will think I’ve finally made it, only to realize that I’m only dreaming I’m awake.  And the cycle will start again, dream within dream within dream, like a series of mirrors reflecting the image that reflects the image that reflects the image. Trouble is that even if I don’t bother to go to bed I’ll have to rest sometime, and that’s when it will start.

But here’s the thing.  I’ve been a bit worried.  I have so much trouble working the slides (?) and various parts of the guns I’ve been trying that I’ve worried that my hands, despite the fact that I work with them a lot, were too weak.  Since I don’t yet having a larger caliber gun, I have had the Browning loaded and next to my bed.  I prefer to not have the AC on if possible, but that means leaving a vulnerable window open to get a cross breeze, and we’ve developed some crime problems recently.  Knowing that my brain and body will be out of whack until I get my prescription refilled, I decided that a loaded gun within reach of a serious dreamer would be a bad idea.  Although REM sleep is the major dream sleep and during REM sleep the muscles are paralyzed (and having REM sleep pop up during waking time is just a real fun thing because of that), there’s still the possibility of sleepwalking so I decided better safe than sorry.  I unloaded the Browning and moved the magazine and extra shell elsewhere.   Why is this significant?  Because I had absolutely no problem doing so.  And I’m relieved because that tells me that it’s just a problem of my hands getting used to handling things, not a problem of strength in them.  I'll be cranky tomorrow, but at least that’s a happy thought for tonight.

Now if I could just get the flippin’ credit hours put away so I can get back to the range.  I so want to shoot.  Doggone addictive sport.

1 comment:

  1. It IS addictive :-) And I believe you did the right thing re the pistol. Better safe than sorry, and I hope you get the prescription filled soonest!