The problem is it doesn't matter if you have the blue or the white pills, the round or the oval pills-- the bad nights start creeping in. They say one of the side effects of Ambien is hallucination; and let me tell you that it's totally-fucking a real problem. When you've been on Ambien for a few months, the terrors begin to happen.
You know one of these nights because you can't feel the Ambien creep on. One minute you're brushing your teeth, wondering why it hasn't kicked in -- and the next you are sobbing into the shower curtain, unable to stand up. The pictures flickering through your brain revolt you to the core, and yet you’re so annihilated you cannot even shake yourself out of the nightmare about to begin.
My older brother did a lot of acid and meth in college. I was 16 years old. I remember taking care of him when he overdosed on both at the same time. I was worried his crepe-y skin would peel off in my hands as I lifted him in the car to take him to the hospital. Our grandma couldn't know -- or else she'd beat the shit out of him and wouldn't pay for his college. ANYWAY, during this meth/acid trip he would seizure in the hospital bed, screaming nonsensical words about the worlds he saw ("Hiccups!" and "Trains!" were the worst of his episodes); and I would have to make sure he didn't hurt himself. He would go silent, but he could still scream through his glazed-over eyes.
When I take Ambien, sometimes I think I see the terrible world my brother was in. All control of my brain has been relinquished, and I see Aliens worshiping a devil in another reality (I watched a Stephen Spielberg marathon that day). My happy, yellow walls melt into the putrid, bloody-shit colored flesh of dead Mexican priests (I ate burritos and watched Sabado Gigante that day). Ambien sucks me down into dimensions that play the most horrifying images before my eyes. I know I am there. Somehow, I'm cognizant that Ambien made this happen, but I can never seem to wake myself up. I am paralyzed, drained of any power, and subject to gripping nightmares; yet I know I must endure seven hours before the Ambien wears off.
Soon, those happy mornings Ambien gave you start to become fewer and fewer. Your “little helper” becomes a nasty friend. You wake up tired and angry. Sometimes you wake up next to an obese, balding, married man with an out-of-control red bush (which is pushed up against your lips). You're never in bed next to a man handsome enough to even be Facebook friends with.
And you swear, the next day, you're going to quit Ambien.
You don't.
