You do have to wonder, when you're awake in the middle of the night worrying about something as mundane and supposedly joyful as gardening, if you've really lost it and fallen between the cracks of nightmare and habitual anxiety. And you have to slap yourself out of it, saying aloud, 'Um, excuse me, but what the hell are you doing with your precious and impressive brain?'
And, more often than not, come morning, it all seems so silly, so you chalk it up to restless dreams, but I wonder if there's a lesson in that--that surrendering to it in the moment (the anxiety, the worry, the nightmare) will free us from the fear of recurrence. That maybe if we learn to sit with the anxiety--silly or not--we'll develop a tolerance. We'll vaccinate ourselves against our own sabotage.