The Dreamer


I am a dreamer…in both the metaphorical and the literal sense. But in this particular post, I am referencing the latter. Ever since I was a young child I have had the most intensely vivid dreams that I always could recall with clarity upon waking. I am not like the “norm” population who has hazy recollections of their trips into the subconscious; I can recount them all in striking detail. Sounds kind of fantastical, no?

Well, it is on some days, but it is horrifying on others. I remember going through a period where my dreams turned into terrors and I would startle from slumber multiple times a night, afraid to go back to sleep lest the scene continue. Growing up in a spiritual household, my family always told me it was a gift to be fighting a war that only the angels can see. To a little 7 year old, though, that held little comfort. Per one of my mentor’s suggestions, I started to keep a dream journal, and every morning I would have 3 or 4 different mini movies to jot down. I still have that journal somewhere, and I will try to search for it to share more with you all.

Just to give you an example of the level of fear and darkness that could creep into my sleeping mind, I recount a dream that is branded into my memory:

I am in a large, dark, dirty, abandoned building, standing on the bottom floor. Looking up, I cannot even begin to glimpse the ceiling. There is nothing in the building except for the narrow flight of stairs that hug the walls. Upwards they climb, following the square architecture. Before I know it, I am on one of the top floors. An eclectic group of people sit watching a free-standing projector. It is still dark, and I begin to make my way towards the light of the screen. Suddenly, I feel a presence behind me. I turn, and standing in the frame of a door I had not noticed is this young girl. Typical of dreams, she doesn’t have a very distinct face, but she is a nightgown and she has no hair. I start to follow her of my own volition as she disappears beyond the door. As I draw nearer however, the sense of dread overwhelms me, and I hesitate. But a force pulls me in faster and faster, and as soon as I am past the threshold, the door slams behind me. My vision is filled with white. Bright flashes of white. Then flashes of torture. Horrible, gruesome scenes of murder and death. I cannot look away, though I am straining to turn my head. As quickly as it began, I am sucked out of the room and the door shuts, this time in front of me. I awaken 

I had that dream when I was 13 years old, and I can never, ever forget those images.

The reason I am sharing this piece of information now is because I have been having awful dreams again. Nothing as severe as the above, but I have been dreaming of abandonment. Every night for the past week or so, I have dreamt that someone I love is walking out of my life. And it feels so real that I wake up gasping in grief. Then I have to talk myself back to reality. It’s awful, and I am tired of them.


I was wondering if any of you have struggled with darker dreams? If so, how did/do you cope? Any feedback or insight is welcome.

With hope for a better night’s sleep,


2 thoughts on “The Dreamer

  1. For years I had the same nightmare, Amazons on a shore or a bank and a gigantic crocodile was coming out of the water in a terrifying way to attack and grab and kill them. I was later told this scene is on a famous painting featured in a very ancient book. It has always puzzled me…


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