Regrets

I didn't realize that it's been this long since I last wrote here. I honestly don't know why. I promised myself I would do this regularly, as a form of therapy, and as a way to reach out to whomever may be reading (though I'm inclined to believe that I'm the only one that's reading this).

Several things have happened in the last few months.

I had that dream again. I remember it like it was something that happened in my waking life. I remember tossing and turning, having a lot of difficulty sleeping, I had a rough week and maybe that's why. Maybe it's because there were a few things weighing down on me from the previous days. After a few restless hours, I think I finally fell asleep. At some point, it was like my legs completely fell asleep. Not that "pins-and-needles" feeling, but a numbness, almost as though my legs were cut off...that I had no legs. As the waking me was asleep with his eyes closed, the dreaming me was fully awake, ready to expect the worst. Then everything went dark. I started panting. My throat went dry. Then I felt a weight press down on me so hard, I couldn't breathe. In my head, I could hear my voice. Well, not my voice now. But my voice when I was a little kid. I tried to scream out for my mother. My throat was so hoarse, so dry, nothing came out. I felt myself sweating, trying to push whatever the weight was away from me. "Maaaaa! Maaaaa!" I tried to scream. It felt like hours. My legs were frozen. My chest felt heavy. I woke up lying in a pool of sweat. My head was soaking wet. My shirt was drenched. I'm not sure if I was just screaming in my dream, or if I was screaming in real life, or both. I don't even know if both the real me or dreaming me couldn't because of the parched throat.

I don't know what that all means. I don't know what that weight was. Should I be worried?

I found a phone number of someone that might have some answers. I've had it for a week or so. I'm afraid of calling. I'm not sure what I would say. I've practiced in my head what I think I'd like to say. But then when I think of actually dialing the number, I  get really scared. Will I actually be able to go through with it? What if I don't get the answers I need or am looking for?

I watched a show the other day where a survivor talked about what happened to them. A fictional story. No strands of truth in it. And the person listening...showing signs of empathy and compassion before leaning and hugging the victim. "I'm so sorry that happened to you." What powerful words. No one's ever said that to me. I wish I could take back all my disclosures. I never regret anything. That's the only thing I ever regret in my life. Telling people. And no one ever feeling like they were sorry.