Since early childhood, I’ve had the occasional bizarre, anxiety-themed dream.
Probably around pre-school, like a normal young child might, I had a green monster that lived in a green trashcan next to my bed. It ate my Little Mermaid toy one night, so my hero Dad took that monster into the kitchen, where I could still hear from my bedroom, and sent him down the garbage disposal. It was very loud and comforting. That was the green monster’s last night in my room.
Now, in adulthood, I would only recall themes during dreaming if I wrote as much content down as I could before wakefulness would cause me to forget. That was like a 1 minute window; the dream floating back down into subconsciousness.
If I ever bothered to try to document them, it’s because of how bizarre or upsetting they were, before I had any inkling of the underlying fear/message behind it.
In my early 20s, the most I can remember about one was that I was riding a tricycle up and down a hill on my childhood street (though, there were no such hills). I was heading to Burdines (a now defunct Florida department store) while munching on a carrot. Oh-k? Lol.
Indeed, most of my dreams in my early 20s were set in and around my childhood home. [Maybe trying to reconnect?]
Growing more depressed in the latter half of my 20s, I started having recurrent dreams of abandonment. It didn’t matter the setting or who was abandoning me; it was that core fear haunting me over and over. Those were the types of dreams I woke up crying.
“This dream may express your unconscious emotions of being forsaken. Examine the reasons for this feeling. Do you feel that people emotionally neglect you? Perhaps you harbour feelings of resentment such as an unresolved problem from childhood? The dream also may be saying how you need to express your feelings and be understood by others.”
Then they just got downright bizarre.
Dreamt I was placed in a hospital under the care of psychiatrist Dr. Drew instead of arrested for driving a stolen van of someone that I knew was murdered. I crashed and didn’t kill these 2 children but their mouths were bloody and injured and only my toe got hurt. Their attorney commented, “Oh, your back works fine, huh?” And at the residence, instead of the hospital, where I was placed, I did not get showers; people had to wash my “long, reddish hair” with dry conditioner every night. I just wanted my toes painted; I would even try to tip but they wouldn’t take anything. Dr. Drew finally listened to me when I tried to get his attention. He asked if I had a sugar sensitivity and then my blood was drawn for “PCQ [what the hell is that?] levels,” and I was acquitted because it was all the crazy medication I had been prescribed.
When I was 28, I would have recurrent dreams about my legs not working, like they were weak and I had no knee caps. I kept falling down whenever I tried to walk, but they were just not supported or didn’t have enough strength, so I had to stay there on the ground or start crawling. These I eventually came to interpret as not reaching my potential, feeling stuck and held back by my mental illness. They were just as distressing as the abandonment dreams.
“Legs represent our ability to progress. If they are strong it shows your self-confidence but if they are weak you may feel emotionally unsteady at the moment.”
Dreamt there was this girl whom I blamed for killing my cats. I was really disturbed and crying hysterically but no one believed any of what I claimed. I thought I had evidence and even the corpses of the cats, so I pressed charges and there was a trial but she did not show up. She kept disappearing whenever I thought I spotted her somewhere, like an event, and so a whole bunch of people from the event went to the trial as witnesses against ME. They testified that they never saw her and then I found they had taken a bunch of pictures of me “drunk” there. But since I was attractive in the pictures and not sloppy, I was not embarrassed. I guess nothing happened with the trial, which wasn’t even a trial; in reality, the police just took my statement and put them in a thick file of papers. Still in the dream, I had to come to my own conclusion after finding my cats alive and okay in a shelter that I had just gone through some delusional psychosis.
Today’s uncomfortable dream prompted me to write this blog post. I had originally gone to bed around 3 AM and woke up at 9 AM, but by the afternoon I fell sleepy again and that’s where I had this dream. I don’t have as much details as the aforementioned, but it began with me trying to reverse my car out of a parking space. Somehow I used the “wrong function” and it started to reverse at a very fast speed and I panicked. Then I couldn’t see anything or control my driving at all and somehow I ended up in a heavily Mexican-populated area of Texas. As chunks of hair would fall out of my scalp onto my hands, I picked up a small group of really friendly people. They told me I was not missing any hair and so I dropped them off at the meeting they were headed to. [More psychosis?]
Mind you, I do not suffer from psychosis in my waking life. Delusions, sometimes, maybe, but it still befuddles me how I come up with these dreams.