Keianna

My dreams have always been the consistency of honey. Even the worst nightmares have a subtle sweetness about them. For a short period of time, in my elementary school years, I hated honey. It was was a healthy substitute for sugar that one of the student teachers tried her hardest to make us like. The way it lingered bothered me. Even after I’d washed, I still felt it when I played at recess and when I went home and when I dreamt.

It’s like I see all my nighttime hallucinations through a layer of the thick, sticky liquid. I’ve tried to explain this to other people as sort of a trust exercise, the way they react to my possibly ridiculous way of thinking decides what I feel comfortable with sharing with them. So bear with me, Reader, as I give you a normal nightmare and distorted takes on it.

Nightmare: My family is running from whatever messed up monster my mind came up with. Subtle sweetness: My entire family is there—even my mom—and that’s nice even if it is under horrible circumstances. Stickiness: Even in my dreams I can anticipate something happening. Whenever both of my parents show up in the same scenario I have a tense nervousness. Lingering: I remember almost every dream I have. I used to hate this because I’d try to analyze them by myself, which is a lot for a fourth grader to deal with.

I really enjoy honey now, it’s one of my favorite things to add to foods, and I use a lot of it for skin and haircare DIYs. I got honey under control. Sleep is an entirely different story.

If dreams are honey, then sleep is a broken alarm clock that I can’t get rid of because it’s an antique or something. Sleep is hard to achieve. I have no problem taking an hourlong nap during the day, but normal sleeping patterns don’t apply to me. On the off chance that I do get to sleep, the alarm clock wakes me up every couple of hours. Why? I don’t know, dude, I’m just trying to get to the honey. I don’t think this alarm clock and I will ever make amends, but only time (preferably from a different clock) will tell. ♦