Hey all, I have not written about a specific dream for so long. And my therapist has counselled me to not read into them too much. However last nights was such a direct reflection of some of my worrying I thought I would share. That and whilst I have been seeing him for months now this was the first time my therapist turned up in a dream. It was weird and comforting in equal measure.
So what was the dream..
This is the short version of course there were a lot more complexities to it. My nightmares often feel like they last for hours, I have no idea if they do or if it is just my perception of time.
I was back at my dads, probably at one of the worst periods whilst living there. The abuse was frequent and I was loosing the battle to keep everything from collapsing further. The house was crumbling around me and my day to day was increasingly difficult. In the nightmare Chris my psychologist was there, as was my sisters counsellor (who I have never met).
We were walking around the house each room depicting a scene from the past. But just like that part in Scrooge where no one can see him as he walks through his past no one noticed us. At first I tried to engage in things I could see frustrated that my attempts to change them did not work.
The professionals passed comments, made observations. Chris was his usual wonderful self, quiet at times but gently nudging me forward, occasionally offering a kind word or piece of advice. Then my sisters counsellor started taking pictures which really infuriated me. I hated that feeling of being picked apart and catalogued. After a while Chris said he didn’t want to leave but it he had too and much to my resignation I went outside and watched him walk off down the road.
Then I went back into the house and unlike before where the people inside didn’t even notice me passing, reality kicked back in and I was thrown head first into the situations I had previously just watched.
My probably shouldn’t over analyse analysis…
Interesting how I felt that the therapist picking apart my life was so uncomfortable. I think a bit of me felt like it was unfair, like she was passing judgement, and part me found that old sense of responsibility and shame. I didn’t want to let them to see or capture evidence of how horrific it was. I felt guilty about how bad I allowed it to get.
In the light of day I need to remind myself it was never about what I allowed. Allowing something feels like you just let it be, that you can let it pass you by. I need to find a new word, maybe suffered. These were situations no one should face and whilst I might not have escaped as quickly as I wanted too nor find the magic thing to fix it. I fort every day to keep us alive and save my sanity.
Then the big worry for me there it was that fear again. That when I finish therapy I will be thrown back into that dark place alone. I recognise that won’t happen and logically acknowledge the only way I get past this fear is to do it and prove to myself it’s fine. And if it’s not fine I will find a way. I always do.
What have you been dreaming of lately?