When I was young, I had a simple, recurring nightmare in which I would be lying in my bed, listening to more-than-usual sounds from the living room of our small bungalow. Then I heard steps walking down the hallway approaching the bedroom door, and a sudden fear would rise up as the steps got closer. When it became clear that the door would open, my fear spiked, and I would wake up. Sometimes I almost stayed asleep long enough to see who opened the door but not quite. In spite of this being a fairly innocuous event (as nightmares go), my heart would be pounding.
Then, finally, one night as a young adult, I stayed asleep long enough to watch the door open and see a face peek in the room. Not my mom’s face, just an ordinary but unfamiliar face. The sudden rise of fear had been the same as any other time, and the moment of giving attention to the face was intense. Then, noticing the ordinariness of the face, the panic slowly drained away. And I never had the dream again.
How many times did I have to have the dream before I let myself see the face? (The answer, my friend, is blowin’ in the wind.)
That last version of the nightmare is a dim echo of a typical trauma healing moment. There is real fear. There are real emotions felt in the body. There is a reality behind the dream that had been avoided that is finally faced. And then reality is perceived anew, and something changes. Something has been healed, and there is no way this dream would have the power over me that it used to have.
I have no idea what real events initially created that nightmare for me, though I’d bet the dream has some roots in memory. My guess is that my parents had a rare social event in our home that continued (started?) after I was put to bed. Then, perhaps, someone went looking for a bathroom and poked their head in the wrong door? At least, somehow, I expect that at a moment when I was expecting the safe face of my mother, an unexpected face appeared instead.
Tolerating the fear enough to let myself see who opened the door – to complete what was unfinished – was the key to the healing of this recurring nightmare. I assume that what enabled me to tolerate that fear was simply my increasing maturity as a young adult. Increasing maturity and growth in personal resources can sometimes be enough for those who have experienced trauma to find a new ability to face what used to be overwhelming, though it often takes more than that, especially when we’ve experienced more troubling events. Then we’re likely to need support and compassion from someone who accompanies us in our decision to consider facing reality.
There are so many places in our lives where we become stuck because we’re afraid to face what could be overwhelming or what might have been overwhelming at an earlier time in our lives when we had less support and/or less maturity. They could be small things or bigger things, but timing is always important. Compassionate support is important. As a therapist, I’ve always discouraged “digging around in the past,” believing that something in us knows the right season to address reality. Will we trust when a possible moment of healing taps us on the shoulder?
[This is part of a series of posts exploring a contemplative pathway to healing/maturing that I call “a compassionate consent to reality.” For an introduction to the project, you may want to see this post here.
Do you find this image troubling? If you like, try getting comfortable and looking at it with curiosity. What is unsettling? What don’t you like? Was a sculptor trying to depict fear? Does it look like aliens? What if it were a child’s Play-Doh creation? Something quite ordinary. What would you like to change? Can you stay with it until it’s just a curiosity?
While reading "Facing a Nightmare - Small Echo of a Healing" I was given an opportunity to know you a little more, and a little better, as the days go by.
Hearing of the resilience of young adulthood was kind of neat as you managed to navigate your way through your reoccurring nightmare to meet your ghost which was nothing more than a glimpse of an ordinary unfamiliar face. In doing so I guess one can say no harm - no foul. Just the flash of a memory that might or might not have been.
It was a manageable trauma that was perhaps healed by one's natural maturation or one we can face on our own.
In keeping with the major theme of "A Compassionate Consent to Reality" we understand we might have to heal from, or face our trauma, with support because we are stuck in bouts of, or realities of trauma, and we need help to become unfrozen from terrors we simply will not, or cannot, face by ourselves at that time. The guidance and insight and a good dose of "a compassionate consent to reality" from a therapist, a spiritual advisor, or another qualified and learned person can really change a persons life.
In being so life is to be lived in the fullest with joy, sorrow, peace and turmoil and grand, grand happiness meeting life on life's terms often in gratitude, love, and at times compassion for ourselves and for others. Let us remember though that we have to at the very least meet our demons to be set free of them. Our courage becomes a definable act of courage.
What I am seeing is that you ability to meet your nightmare is a developed courage which has helped to create a good dose of empathy and understanding to guide another into a calmer more liveable reality. It is the hope of this note that you will help others to find a path to become courageous, joyous, resilient people who live more doable lives living life in its fullest while living life on life's own terms.
To cut myself off I must say - A Small Echo of a Healing has helped to make you who and what you are today which is a person with a soul and for this I am grateful. I thank you. It is an enjoyable and interesting read.