Sleep, Panic and Him again.

Totally not feeling well. I hate nightmares. I feel I am still in them for hours afterward. I believe we all live nightmares just as we live everyday life. Dreaming is still living after all. While you dream, you live and you live a far more fantastic life than when you are awake.
But this is no good when you have a nightmare. The good thing about dreaming bad things and living bad things is that the dreams fade faster.
I am sick for him tonight. I just wish he were here next to me, with me, bound to me. I wish, I wish. Somedays it gets bad like this. The wanting. Like today when I am stuck in this aftermath of a nightmare because the minutes passing don't feel right. I think it's almost this faint though doubtful fear that I am still dreaming and what's real? Is this real? Was that real? This is the basis of my panic attacks. I have discovered something about them. The fear that grips me is death, just like others, but it is not a death of afterlife. It is this feeling of nonexistence. It feels as if there is a vast and meaningless nothingness and really, it is by far worse than when my nephew died, when Buffy died, when Geronimo left me that first time, when Adam was with Terri, it is worse because absolutely none of it matters. They do not exist either. Nothing does. Literally NOTHING exists. That fear can consume me and really, I wrote this poem years and years ago and Chell read it and he didn't understand it at all. I think I will try to find it and post it here. It is a very bad poem, of course, I wrote it when I was something of a preteen. But it puts the matter in words.
I had my first panic attack when I was 12. The doctor said it was growing pains. I remember it so well! I was reading scriptures and kneeling by my bed (nothing says horror like religion) and this feeling of nothingness swept through me. I will never forget it. In that same room, I saw monsters on the walls, lost my way in the dark and tried screaming bloody murder to wake someone up and open the door. I hate that room. I think I still dream about it when I dream about ghosts and fear. That time in the dark I was feeling around for the light switch, crying, sreaming and I knocked a picture off the wall and the corner of the frame hit me in the head. Hurt pretty bad.
Anyway, I miss him so much. He is so much a part of me. He is my life and my love. Always. He is the first person who I felt I could love as much as I love my own children. If I had him, I could be happy for the first time in my life.