Forced into the front seat of a white Lincoln limousine by two men wearing suits, ties, and hats, that looked like they were from a 1930’s black-and-white gangster movie, I was terrified. It would only get worse. As we drove, my view as a ten-year-old who couldn’t sit in a seat and look down at the sidewalk was the top portion of the windshield.
That windshield, when not displaying the dark night sky, was covered in the faces of terrified and unsuspecting people being run over by the maniacs who took me hostage. I woke up in a cold sweat, crying, because in the moment, I couldn’t distinguish what had just happened from current state of being outside of a dream.
I recently decided to change the way I viewed nightmares. From a young age, I’ve had nightmares regularly, and some weeks seemingly nightly. I’ve never been one to look too deeply into the meaning of a dream or why I have them, fearing that I would only encourage additional bad dreams with the way my worry-fueled brain operates. So instead of fearing them and concentrating on how to get rid of them, I’m wholeheartedly embracing each nightmare.
As a writer, I feel embarrassed that I haven’t been able to make this shift earlier. As a person, viewing nightmares as unique stories that can enrich my life in some form or fashion, which is now my goal, could have stripped away the negative powers of a nightmare and instead turned them into a friend. Even an asset.
Last week, I decided to add a notebook with blank pages to the side of my bed with a pen. After each nightmare, I’ll take a few minutes to write down what happened, and why I think I had this dream, even if I’m just grasping at straws. I may not have the idea for the next science fiction blockbuster movie tucked away in my dreams, but by stripping away the terrifying false reality of a scary dream, I can possibly even look forward to the extraordinary tales my brain and a mix of chemicals and whatever else is in there. They say that perception is reality, so I look forward to my next non-fiction film that will play for an audience of one while I’m sleeping.