Dream a little dream...

As sort of a side dish to my recent humiliation (which I am now completely over, I sincerely mean it) and medical problems, I managed to stress myself out to the point where my neck and shoulders locked up.  I will now wait until you recover from your shock and awe.  (Whistling)  Just for gravy, I managed to sleep funny on top of that, so my left shoulder has become an Icecapade of Agony, a phrase I find to be redundant.  The point I am slowly ambling toward is that, for the past few days, I have not been able to sleep on my side or on my stomach as I normally do.  While it may not sound like a major inconvenience, you know how I love to bitch.
When I sleep on my back either one of two things will happen.  The first is I will have a nightmare.  These are not just your everyday nightmares, however.  These are so bad I do not simply wake up, I bolt upright, torn from my sleep, fear shredding the gentle curtain of my slumber like a knife through rotted velvet.  Breathing hard, drenched in sweat, heart pounding, I need a full minute before I can reassure myself that I am in fact awake and not in mortal peril, and I need far longer than that before I even entertain the notion of going back to sleep.  I do not like it when this happens.  Not at all.
The other thing is kind of embarrassing.  It only happens to males, usually pubescent boys or men who are not having regular sexual congress, when they are sleeping.  You learned about it in health class.  It involves changing the sheets.  Yeah, that.  It comes with its own special dreams.  I like those dreams (obviously) but I do hate dealing with the mess.  I think it is weird that these diametrically opposed experiences are brought on by the same stimulus (me sleeping on my back) but there it is.  Just a minute part of my grander specialness.