I've always had vivid nightmares. The medications and chemotherapy have made them all the more unbearable. I just awoke from one that promises to keep me awake for several hours.
At first I was staying in a hotel, some pay-by-the-week run down dive of a place, I was alone but it was obvious in the dream I'd just had some break-up with someone I cared about. In the dream it was night and I'd just returned to the hotel after going out for dinner. Almost immediately I was "attacked" by a ghostly girl in a sheet trying to strangle me. I fought her off and tried to speak to her, and she revealed she was a ghost trapped there from a suicide and wanted someone else to die in the room to keep her company. I was talking to her when the door opened, and it was a woman I'd never seen before but apparently married to in the dream. She said she had heard me talking through the door and knew I had someone hidden in the room, then shot me through the throat.
The dream transitioned so I was a child in an old turn-of-the-century sanitarium. I was sick and vomiting on the wide, Spartan stairs in the night. A doctor was watching, he was my father, helplessly as a nurse held me. I was vomiting up pins and needles and tiny brass keys and cogs, and the nurse was saying that my illness was a psychic curse for which there was no cure.
Then I woke up in my room into reality this time, choking on the pain in my throat.
Such are the things my dreams are made of.
I'll be very, very happy when I'm off these medications.