How I Dreamed Myself Into Emotional Flashback

How I found my way out.

Photo by ian dooley on Unsplash

I’ve written about emotional flashback. About writing myself into one, and writing myself out of one. But what happens when writing isn’t enough? Or when writing makes things worse?

How do you get from surviving to thriving? From terrified to OK?

The day before yesterday I wrote about Dad’s death. I touched on his betrayal and my sister’s involvement. I read the piece out loud to Keith, my husband. I read through shaking voice. I read around the lump in my throat. By the time I hit publish, I knew I was done for the day. I stopped all writing and relaxed into the evening with my family. I planned on picking up my regular writing routine the next morning.

That night I dreamed.

Elements from my every nightmare crammed into one terrifying sleep.

On the surface, my nightmares aren’t that frightening. If I told you I dreamed about Thanksgiving with my mother you wouldn’t expect me to wake in a cold sweat, shaking and shouting. But I do. Any dream involving my mom turns into a nightmare.

Some dreams I have feature a nightmarish landscape but are not at all frightening to me. Until that is, I wake up and wonder what kind of person dreams such violence. These dreams are about my…