My house burned down last night. A short time later, the little rental I had in Goldfield also burned. As one local put it, “Looks like someone’s out to get you.” I know who. Life. And I don’t know about that rental. Don’t have one in Goldfield.

These were actually last night’s nightmares. Painfully real enough to leave me gasping for breath when I woke up, all soaked in that leftover adrenaline.

This time the reason was easy to figure out. Last night, in real life, I smelled enough smoke in my backyard to call the fire department. They came around for a look-see and found nothing. They said to call anytime, no worries.

This is a definite change,

Before, my nightmares were never related to events that went on during the day. They were all Salvador Dali messes, surrealistic pastiches of unexplainable violence and blood.

Now they focus on the Day to Day and always twist into something terrible. Something threatening. Something anxiety provoking.

I am having fewer of them since my ECT treatments in Tempe. But at the expense of my insomnia getting far, far worse. Maybe all that electricity through my brain did somethng. It sure did change my sleep, the character of my dreams, and my anger. I am so angry these days.

The clinic down there refuses to release my medical records to my local psychiatrist. The story is that the person in charge of records is in the hospital and more requests are stacking up so she will get around to it when she gets back and when she can.

They are, however, denying knowledge of what happened at my fifth treatment, the point at which I stopped the sessions. That session felt like being physically murdered in real life.

The goalposts have now moved and I am confused. Before, the plan was to kill myself in the short term if the ECT treatments didn’t work. Now, I’ve moved killing myself off to the mid-term.

I’m now torn behind continuing with my hobbies and interests in the hope that something might get better, or slowly getting rid of everything I have, so no one will be burdened with a bunch of junk to get rid of.

What an odd time.