Between Nightmares and Hope

The past few nights have been anything but kind—horrific nightmares, waking up more exhausted than when I went to sleep. It’s hard not to feel like real rest is slipping further away, and yet I still find myself clinging to a small bit of hope, even though it feels like it might be a waste.

Tonight I did what I could: a long, hot bath to calm my body, fresh sheets that were dried on the clothesline—clean, crisp, and soft against my skin. Little comforts I try to build around me, even when my mind feels heavy.

It’s after midnight now. I’m going to read for a while, let the quiet hold me, and hope—just hope—that when sleep finally comes, it will be kind to me for once.