I woke my housemate with my screaming last night. Well, this morning really, about 4am. When I woke from my nightmare, I was dripping with sweat, shivering and my nails were sore and bleeding from scraping across my matress.



T and I were walking around on a hospital roof. I was stood in the middle, but T was walking on the railings around the edges of the rooftop. She was trying to teach me something, I think, about taking risks, but I was struggling to listen to her lesson because I was mesmerised by her walking in the sunlight.

Then she slipped.

She paused, as first, one foot catching on the railing one floor below. But then, she kept falling and I was pressed against the railings screaming for her, but she fell anyway. The noise when she hit the ground was horrific.

The hospital tried to save her, but she died anyway.

I woke up the next morning, texted her to try and prove that it was all a dream, but she did not respond. She could not respond. Eventually, I spoke to her daughter. Her daughter HATED me, was screaming at me, refused to let me have my rabbit back (who I had left in T’s room). She despised me, she blamed me for T’s death, and I felt totally overwhelmed that T was gone and I could have absolutely nothing of her. She was gone, and it was all my fault. She was dead, and my need for her was the reason why she was gone.


It was beautiful to speak to T tonight. She was tired after a long day on a course, and the sleep in her voice only made me adore her more. I find her care for me somewhat ethereal – how on earth is there someone in the world who cares about me enough to talk to me at 7pm when she’s been at work all day and I’m not at crisis, I just need some comfort? In my moments when I couldn’t be more angry with her, I must try to remember these amazing ways in which she shows she cares.

I had emailed her about this dream, in my terror at 4am. Her first few sentences to me on the phone today were filled with pleading for me to stop holding all the responsibility on my shoulders. “You held the responsibility for too long as a child”, she said. “You took the blame for things that were not your fault.” She went on to tell me that, even if she died, it would never be my fault. Even if her daughter hated me, it would never be my fault. I do not have this power.

It helps to hear her tell me that. But it terrifies me that I cannot keep her safe.

We talked about my plans to see R, and she is happy with this. She wants to talk to Little herself on Wednesday. She said something about getting her to write with my left (i.e. non-dominant) hand? All sounds very gimmicky and I am worried about doing this just before she goes away, but I do trust T. T keeps suggesting that I need to find some ways to support Little, but I don’t want to do this – I want, for once in my life, to feel that Little is loved and supported by someone else. I’m tired of us having to save ourselves.

We only had 15minutes or so, because T was really tired and it was very late. We will speak again tomorrow, which is lovely, because I need her comforting. Then Wednesday is the beginning of The Pause.

I beg for dreamless sleep tonight.




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