So let’s say some scary dream has you waking up nights. You can’t sleep well, so you go to work completely spazzed out because your body is like “I wish I was asleep”.
Bad dreams can be defeated. This is my trick:
I very long time ago, I had a bad dream. It was so bad, it kept repeating itself. It essentially involved a shapeless bloody mass stalking me and my family through a forest. We would find a cabin and try to secure the doors, but it would always break through the door. Right when the SBM (Shapeless Bloody Mass) was about to harm me or my family, I would wake up in a sweat.
Around the same time, I watched Nightmare on Elm Street and had an epiphany: It’s just a movie. If I watched in broadcast TV, all the bloody parts would be edited AFTER the real movie was released. I realized every dream is in my head, and *I AM THE EDITOR*. I may not control the plot twists, but if something happens in there that I don’t like, I can edit it out.
That night, the SBM dream came back. I felt a bit bolder this time and decided to let the movie go. I left the bad things happen, and then STOPPED the dream. I looked at the shapeless bloody mass in stop motion, studying it. I made the decision that the SBM was mostly harmless, and was in fact, just a big, bloody booger. While the dream was stopped I said “Dristan”. Magically, a bottle of sinus spray appeared in my hand. I said “This isn’t big enough” and it became a great big 2-liter bottle of Snot Be Gone.
Then I pressed a mental REWIND button and the SBM stopped enveloping my family, and went back out the window. The window, once broken, repaired itself. I then stopped thing again and walked out of the cabin with my giant bottle of SNOT BE GONE and a box of tissues. The SBM slid across the forest floor, threateningly undulating towards the cabin. Saying nothing, I walked up and squirted the thing with SNOT be gone. It quivered and made a rumbling noise that sounded like “Impossible!” I waved a tissue at it and it started shrinking. Once it was small enough, I started drapping the rapidly shrinking booger with tissues until it was gone.
Now, while the story may be pretty gross, it illustrates two things:
When I have bad dreams, I fix them. Some people call it lucid dreaming. I call it corrective dreaming.
The event of this dream occurred when I was probably 9 or 10 years old. I still remember it in detail because it was one of those events that feels like it’s personally life changing, but it has no meaning to anyone else alive.
Which makes me wonder why I’m sharing it in my blog, but there it is, eh?