As a child I would have this recurrent nightmare every time I was ill. I can still remember the uncomfortable feeling that went through my body as I was sleeping.
I can’t describe what I could see but, I can say it was powerful.
My dreams can be so intense, they make me tired when I wake up. I am cold, my body is shaking. My hands and feet are like ice…
Back to my childhood, once woken up from the confusing nightmare I would get out of bed to stand in front of my parents’ room. The door was closed. I would cry and call on them. My mother opened the door.
Though I woke her up,
Though it was late at night
Though it is also early in the morning
She smiled at me and took me in her arms. I could smell the warmth of her bed in her hair, the bitter breath of a dry mouth.
My mother would kneel down and helped me catch my breathe. We would breath loudly in and out. My lungs were filled with tears and horrible images swam around. Breath in slowly….. and then breath out…. a good thing to do if ever you are having a panic attack. It probably won’t stop it, but may give you more time to realize what is going on.
My mother’s heavy hands caressed my sweaty hair. She told me I had a nightmare because my body was trying to tell me something, like I needed a pee.
So every time she would make me go to the toilet. Then she put me back to bed. Once under my cold cover my mother reminded me she would always be there, in the room next to mine. And she still is.