These Days, Or Nights, Rather

I have a lot of trouble falling asleep now. Which hasn't been a problem for me since adolescence, when I had a bedtime. I also have unpleasant dreams nearly every night. Not nightmares, just unpleasant. Just dreams where I wake up relieved to find that I'm not in a house filled with refugees ducking from a drive-by shooting, or in a fight with my mom, or missing three of my toes on my right foot, or listening to domestic violence in the apartment above me and fumbling to dial 9-1-1 before getting caught by the perpetrator.

I also have a therapist now (it's been about a year, and I'm still squeamish about admitting that). Shouldn't the relationship between these things (the sleeping) be inversely proportional to her on-going presence in my life? Since I now pay someone to listen to me talk about the unpleasant parts of my life, shouldn't I be sleeping like a baby?

Guess the brain will have its say regardless of who's listening.

Addendum:

Further pondering (while not sleeping) last night led me to the idea that perhaps my troubles with falling asleep are just the by-product of being single again. Sleeping alone for the past year, for the first time in many years, means that there is no one to wind down the day with. Maybe that's all it is. There's no pre-bedtime outlet for my brain anymore, so now it whirs itself on and on and into my dreams instead of winding down in the company of another's thoughts while both body and mind relax into sleep.