|Elder Dancer, Jane. Just because.|
When I say bad dreams, I don't mean forgetting my locker combination in the halls of my old high school sort of dream. I have those, but those just qualify as annoying.
When I say bad dreams, I mean people trying to kill me sorts of dreams. Dreams filled with fear and running and trying to hide and being caught and then all of it starting all over again.
I do not remember a time in my life when I did not have dreams like this.
I can still remember some of my worst recurring dreams from my early teens over thirty years ago...that is how vivid they were.
There was yet another one of those DUH! sorts of studies that I read years ago about how people who have bad dreams on a regular basis are more likely to be depressed. Um, like I said, DUH.
The depression is feeding the bad dreams or are the bad dreams feeding the depression? It seems to be a sort of chicken and egg thing to me. Early childhood trauma can create either and then they work together.
As I work through this whole project of "changing my mind," hitting a wall of bad dreams...going through a weeks long cycles...definitely puts the breaks on the larger process.
Having bad dreams means I am not actually getting restful sleep which means I don't have the energy I need to work on this mind of mine.
Bad dreams leads to a zombie sort of survival state.
The consistency I need to accomplish that goal of re-wiring my brain through a cluster of helpful practices...the consistency that is so vital to that goes out the window when you are walking around in a fog of lethargy with a sprinkle of fear on top -- the remnants of those bad dreams riding around like dust on your back.
My brain is so foggy today I don't know where I am going with this writing...
I will end by pointing out that this is where being very stubborn does help. I won't skip going to the studio this morning, even though I want to. I won't skip chanting or any of the other practices, even though I want to just sit and veg with television.
I am worth more than that.