last night i had the first real nightmare in years. that really amazes me. so is the effect of the SSRI finally wearing off, leaving my brain alone to sort out its conflicts. the strange thing is that there was nothing really scary about the “nightmare”, it wasn’t even a bad dream… i can’t remember it clearly now but it dealt with spydaddy smuggling out two pieces of whatever from wherever and he is running down a staircase and supposedly i am spydaddy and trying to awake from that dream… you know this strange feeling when you are aware that it is only a dream and try to awake… i was screaming in the dream and obviously in real life as well…