I’m curled up on a wet, potholed road, somewhere, crying; crying harder than I knew was possible. I can’t stop and it feels like my soul is being torn from me. To my right, my dad lies against a gate post, his final breath having just left his body. There are thick, bulky blackish birds circling and swooping and my sorrow is so intense that I wish I had died with him.

I don’t know how long this lasted, but it was the latest in a series of diabolical dreams where unresolved things have been thrust at me. My dad died 11 years ago. We had a troubled relationship, but I loved him. I didn’t cry much then. I was in my early 30’s and angry.

I’m now 42. and taking high doses of Magnesium to drill out my insomnia. I’ve done the prescription pills for years but am not comfortable with being laid out cold these days – probably due to living in SA where crime is a ‘thing’.

I got turned onto Magnesium by an old doctor up the east coast. I found the strongest capsules I could get and doubled the dose on his instruction. It was heaven. Sleep came fast and hard, but then so did the dreams. Each night I know at some point I’m going to have my past thrown at me. I’m going to laugh, cry, feel uncontrollable rage, fear and sadness.

I’m addicted. Normal dreams don’t cut it anymore. Without my fix of nightly emotional purging I’m left disappointed and dejected. It’s a sweet hell I go through. It’s cleansing. It’s doing the work that therapy failed to do…I think.