when you're dreaming with a broken heart, the waking up is the hardest part

I'm not sure why I haven't written anything here for a couple of months. I think maybe my need to talk about things diminished, as the breakup got further in the past, and my inspiration got lost in the mire of college and other distractions.
It's been almost exactly five months since I broke up with Brian. He still calls and texts daily, telling me how selfish I'm being for ignoring him and how he knows he fucked up but people make mistakes and he's changed for the better. I guess the only thing it really makes me feel now is annoyed. I still miss him sometimes, sometimes when I'm falling asleep for a second I can almost feel him there, already sleeping because he used to be so good at falling asleep. Before everything happened he slept like a huge baby. The last few months he didn't go to sleep until 5 am most nights and he had these horrible dreams. Sometimes he would jump out of bed and swing punches at people who weren't there. I remember one night we were sleeping in the TV room at my house because we were housesitting while my parents were out of town, and in the middle of the night he jumped out of bed and screamed at the top of his lungs for a good five seconds. That might've been the most scared I've ever felt in my life. I screamed too and I looked at him, and he was looking at me with this face I will never forget, like I was a total stranger and I was trying to hurt him. Even for just a few seconds, the fact that he couldn't register who I was, the fact that he wanted to get away from me, the fact that he was confusing me for someone who wanted to hurt him, upset me deeply and I couldn't go back to sleep for a long time. He was too scared to even be sorry about it.
I also remember the first time I was every truly afraid of Brian. It was very late in our relationship, in the twilight weeks, and I was staying at his house for the night. We had been fighting all evening and now we were just lying in his bed watching tv and being mean to each other. He said something I didn't like, some jab that I can't really remember, and he said it really close to my face, so I shoved him. He grabbed my arms to stop me and for a second I struggled against it and tried to get him away from me, more out of aggressive anger than self-defense, but then I realized what we were doing and I just stopped moving. I don't really remember the details and everything, but I remember that when we both stopped struggling his hand was on my neck, pinning me down by my throat. And as soon as our eyes met he let go and jumped back and I noticed that my shirt was ripped almost all the way off. I don't know how that happened. And then I curled up in a ball and I just remember saying, "what do I do now? What do I do now?" What do you do when there are red finger marks on your wrists and your shirt is ripped all the way down the front? What about if you shoved first? Do you stay the night?
RNT