Bad Dreams

When I called my dad a few days ago, he was returning home from my grandmother's. She lives alone but only about 5 minutes away so Dad and other members of my family visit her often. Usually Dad just goes to spend time with her, but this time time he was there because Grandma had a bad dream during a nap. When dad said this, it gave me pause. I had not considered that even Grandmas have bad dreams.

As a child, I didn't know anything about "anxiety attacks," though looking back I know I had them then. For a period of time in elementary school I decided I would read my bible before going to bed. It seemed a good idea, but anytime I got to a passage promising eternal life my head would jump to death, not seeing my family again, never seeing the sun rise again. Enter anxiety attack. That same panic is what you feel when you wake up from a bad dream: a feeling that you are not in control. I don't recall the boogie-men of my childhood dreams, but I know there were plenty. My solution when that feeling came on from thinking about dying or waking from a bad dream was to jump into bed with my parents, never telling them what brought me there and they never pressed. They would just hug me and say, "I love you, everything will be okay." It was such comfort for me to be sandwiched between them.

I always thought bad dreams were something you eventually outgrew. Even today in my "adult life" I think I was still holding on to that hope, despite the fact it was not even a month ago I woke up from a dream in a cold sweat and had to call Ben for comfort. But, life is not so different between 3-year-olds and 89-year-olds. You still have times when you just want someone to hug you and say, "I love you. Everything will be okay."