Bad Dreams

It’s the middle of the night, and once again, I’m awake, pounding on the keyboard. I’ve had to leave my bed in order to escape the half-hour hot flash that sometimes afflicts me at night. But I woke disturbed by the dream I was having. It was a dream about war. We were off to attack another country somewhere, and I was certain that this time it would bring disaster on us. It had something to do with the timing of the attack…I remember being very upset that we were going to attack on a certain date. Seems it was the anniversary of another ill-fated attack, and because of this, the date spelled certain doom. It was very real, and I was absolutely certain that this time the battle was going to be brought right back to our shores. I was petrified.

I don’t usually dream about such universal issues. I can only surmise that the thought of war has been bothering me more deeply than I allowed myself to believe. When you are conscious, your mind doesn’t dwell on concepts that are so huge and unknown and unsettling. When you sleep, the chains you keep on your fears—to keep you sane—loosen enough to let your mind explore them. I try to keep the reality of war at arms’ length, but I must be more deeply disturbed by it than I want to admit.

In my dreams, I often visit the places I’m afraid to go when I’m awake. When my dad and sister were ill, I used to have dreams that somebody died. It was never them that died in my dream, just someone I knew, but was removed from. For instance, I dreamed that my best friend’s dad died of a heart attack. In retrospect, I can see that my psyche was trying on the idea of death. Looking at it from an angle that was close enough to examine it, but not to touch it. Or have it touch me.

The really disturbing thing is, I believe that my dreams contain more than a small dose of precognition. When I am bothered consistently by dreams of death, someone usually dies. I’m hoping that this war dream isn’t the first of a series…