The Terror of my Dreams
Thursday, September 17, 2015
I sometimes wish I could write in the dark, with no light invading my thoughts when I'm thinking so deeply. On nights that I'm feeling slightly depressed and cannot sleep, I know I write the most beautiful poems in my mind. And then by morning, they are all forgotten and replaced with the most nerve racking dreams I've ever experienced.
Although most of my dreams slip away from my mind in the early morning, these particular ones are in my mind all day, and sometimes for a week or two after. I feel as if I'm truly living the events in my dreams, and they traumatizing me. Here is one from Tuesday night, which made me wake up in sweat and tears:
I went to a bonfire with my best friend, Lane. We had entirely too much to drink and passed out at whom ever's house we were located. That morning, Lane informed me that we needed to go to a wedding shower.
It was almost as if everyone at the wedding shower was ignoring us, and only cared to grab the gifts in our hands. So I stood in the corner listening in to conversations.
All of a sudden, there were shots and bomb-like noises coming from outside. I remember looking out of the window and seeing a car's headlight explode. Every one panicked, and it almost seemed as if they all knew what was coming next, because everyone was saying their goodbyes. Lane made me crouch on the floor and she hovered over me, as if trying to protect me. Three men walked in with guns, and I remember her saying, "Good bye Jaime." And I said, "I love you, Lane" in return.
The men walked out for only a moment, and all I remember is suddenly wedging myself in between a counter and a wall, taking in no regard for my best friend's safety. I couldn't see anything from that position except darkness. Then I heard the shots firing, and I knew everyone except me was dead. I woke up immediately after that.
When I woke up from the dream, I felt panicked and guilty. Guilty that I had just left my best friend for dead. That feeling stayed with me for the rest of the day, and even now while I write this. I have dreams such as this at least 3 times a week, and they are always different. Yes, always different, but just as terrifying. This, along with the stress of my classes, is making it hard not to struggle with depression right now. But I don't really blame myself, because living a traumatic experience, even in your dreams, is fairly difficult to deal with.