It’s just a nightmare. We will come out of this.

Something became really clear to me on Saturday that I have never fully realized until now, and of course there was no reason I would have noticed.

I had two reoccurring nightmares as a child.  The first one involved planes plummeting from the sky, crashing into school buildings, and other buildings while I could hear it from a distance.  I never saw the impact, but I always saw the plane descend, and always heard it crash.

The other dream was one that not only affected my dream state, it gripped me into my waking state for several minutes after as well.  This one involved all of my physical worldly possessions whirling at high speeds above my head in some sort of tube that I could see through, meeting their demise at the end where there was an incinerator or a compactor.  I was helpless and barefoot in my pjs while I watched it all go.  My parents down the hall could always hear my struggles in the night and they would come to rescue me with soft caresses and a warm washcloth for my forehead.  When I broke from my sleep I was trapped between worlds, my nerves on the outside of my skin.  I experienced what I believe autistic kids live with.  I was hypersensitive to all sounds, movements, pressures, colors, smells.  Everything was too much for me to handle.  If my bed sheet was smooth it was like a vast ocean swallowing me, drowning me; it was far too smooth for comfort.  If there was a wrinkle in my sheets I was in a tulmultuous ocean, rising and falling drowning me as well.  My closet doors at the foot of my bed reached up to heaven, and sort of breathed in and out.  My parents moved too fast, spoke too loud, too quickly, everything hurt me.  Finally I would awake.  We’d all go back to bed and forget until the next time it happened.

The first dream came true.  I haven’t had a plane crash dream since 2001.  I had one shortly after 9/11 and never again.  I saw the planes hit from a distance on my TV.

The second dream is coming true too, only this dream I conquered on my own.  When I was around 11 years old I had the dream while staying with my aunt and uncle in Georgia.  I didn’t have my parents to wake me.  I didn’t know my aunt and uncle very well.  I had to get myself up out of a strange bed while my whole body screamed in agony, I stepped into a strange dark living room and talked myself back to reality, to safety.   That was the last time I have ever had that dream.

I think this means something.   We are going to bring ourselves out of this mess once and for all.  It’s only a nightmare.

S

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