I have frequent nightmares. As far back as I can remember I had nightmares. There was a short time frame where I could actually control the dream to switch from something bad to something more comforting, I have since stopped that practice, thinking, at the time, that it was a mere fluke. I'm one of those people who can remember at least 90% of their dreams, and the percentage would be greater if I was diligent about writing them down upon first waking, but my bladder always dictates other priorities.
As a result of bad dreams, I tend to suffer from insomnia. This started after I had my first real bout with depression. I was medicated for that as well as my insomnia, which left me feeling like less of a person and completely numb in the mind, something later I could see was much of the point in psychological therapy when one doesn't truly wish to listen to their patients or delve into the shadow work it takes to get to the point of change. But that is another story...
The one year I had no nightmares? When I was pregnant. I cleansed out many demons prior and during that time, sleep was peaceful, despite uncomfortable as any womyn would be during pregnancy trying to find that "right" spot. Pft, pointless.
After the pregnancy I went back to being an insomniac, and not because of my daughter... she slept through the night before she hit 2 months old! Most parents would give their left arm for that kind of bliss, but my body had its own adjustments to make, and part of that was a busy mind that refused to cooperate and be still.
The past 2 weeks have been filled with horrific nightmares. Horrific. I'm used to bad dreams, I may not like them, but I am used to them. I listen to them, I work with their messages, but I seem to always have a lot on my mind, which a teacher of mine tells me often to work in the heart realm, still the mind... yeah, I'm trying... ooh ugly word, "trying"... don't get me started on the energy of that!
The dreams have been surrounding themselves in water -- always with the theme of me drowning, being killed, trying to be killed, etc. I do recall a past life with water playing a very pivotal role, however, as far as my memory can tell, it wasn't a bad life, so clearly there are some other water issues needing to be revealed.
Night after night it would get worse, the killings more severe than the next, suffocation being key, waking up in the morning in near panic, always some form of torture would arise.
Last night? Last night there was no water. Last night I was with a group of people, I don't know the details of why, but someone needed to die. No murders, no tortures, this needed to be a voluntary decision. I volunteered myself, knowing, in some capacity, that it was quite important. I don't know the why's, and even then I don't think I truly grasped the "why's" of it either, but in my heart I knew it was important.
The beginning process was painless, a shot, would be over in a few seconds. However, it took much longer that, much to the surprise of all of us. We waited and waited, no changes, nothing. Then, after much time, I died. My heart stopped, I closed my eyes and passed. They confirmed this. A minute later I open my eyes, confusing and scaring the others, telling them that I could still feel a pulse, despite the fact that my heart was no longer pumping. My heart was the first to die. My body became cold, turning blue, but I was able to walk and talk. This was something the others never encountered, so needless to say they didn't know what to do with this information, except to say we must wait to see what would happen.
Time passed some more, and my body began to go numb, legs, arms, bit by bit I was slowly going numb, and I knew this was really it. My lungs hurt, my mind was begging for air and I couldn't breathe it in anymore, and then the panic set in... I was really going to die. I think there was a moment of hope that even if I was this blue, "heartless" person that I was still alive, I didn't think much of what would come next.
I was desperate to leave something behind, a memory, something to say I was here, last words, anything that was more than my fear.
I woke up gasping for air, shaking, panicked.
I must explain that while some may not remember their dreams or see them as movies being played while they are merely the observer, sometimes the participant, I am generally always the participant. It's rarely in movie form, so I am always emotionally connected to it. If I become the observer, it's usually my subconscious' way of telling me that, in this moment, I must watch, unable to handle the actual emotion of 'experiencing' it fully.
Our subconscious are great protectors.
I walked around in a daze this morning, feeling like I didn't have enough air, and feeling like I truly did die. There has only ever been one other dream where I felt this rattled -- I split into 2 selves, and one killed the other, without malice, but it was a horrific murder, and I woke up screaming, my husband running to see what's wrong as he watches in confusion me grabbing my chest and telling him that I am dead.
I did die that day. It was a spiritual death I won't ever forget, and it opened a road of much growth and change.
Dream interpretations will say that most deaths are signs of spiritual rebirths, which I have been feeling coming on, but to experience it in the dreamland, where some consider to "just be a dream", it's more than that to me. I feel fortunate to be able to experience these different realms as more than imagination or fantasy, even if it can sound crazy or silly at times, but the experiences sometimes leave me feeling naked, unsure of what's to come next, and my skin doesn't always feel like my own. Such as today.
I used to consider myself as one who never truly feared death. No one close has ever died, thankfully. Sure I've had some relatives pass away, but they're in another country, I see them every 10 years, so when I return I simply think they are on vacation, I'll see them "next time". Perhaps a child-like way of coping, I don't know, I'm not impervious to death. It saddens me to think of what gets left behind, the "unfinished business" aspect...
A lot of my Buddhist studies teach about coming to terms with your mortality, Lama Surya speaks of this often, I read it often, I know it's important, but putting that into practice is sometimes a challenge.
This dream made me realize something important, something I haven't been able to admit out loud, so the fact that I'm even blogging about it is a huge step, as I tend to keep the deeper fears to myself.
I am afraid of death -- of course I don't want to leave behind those that I love... but this dream made me see and actual admit the thing that I have carried since childhood, from previous lives: I am afraid of death, because I am afraid of being forgotten. That is the true suffocation I am seeing... )0(