My last Galaxy Brain assignment was to interpret the meaning of a particular dream, which I did "in character", by way of pointing out how boring the dreams of others are, then making my answer all about me and a scary dream I used to have growing up.
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I also mentioned a dream study course a relative took. She told me our dreams are all about ourselves, our subconscious revealing itself in weird and wonderful ways through our dreams.
Since then, though, I've had a couple of therapy sessions to go with the medication I'm on as a result of the panic attacks I started experiencing last spring. She's young, young enough to be my daughter, so it's different than I'd imagined it would be, but what had I imagined?
Magic.
Well it's not magic, it's a process, and she's trained in it, has the skills required to help someone else make the necessary connections between brain, body, thinking, behaviour to calm an over-active flight or fight response. Oh, and freezing. We never mention freezing but it's another reaction to anxiety.
It's all very helpful, even hearing myself tell a familiar tale I remember lost details or recognize overlooked significance. Maybe a pattern. I even learned of a possible approach to the panic attacks called "radical acceptance", which just knowing is a possibility has lowered my anxiety about the next panic attack.
Typing that just reminded me of The Greatest Generation (although surely not as parents) threatening crying children with "Stop that crying before I give you something to cry about!"
Panic attacks sure gave me something to be anxious about.
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I found out, too, I'm not alone in needing help after the Freedom Convoy attack on downtown Ottawa last February. It's apparently quite common. I should have known. Three of my panic attacks occurred after encountering people who continue to support it. But here radical acceptance comes into play, doesn't it. There will always be people who do. Accept it. Move on.
Get off Twitter. It won't get you published and it's just another addiction. Either do the work of shopping your book around or don't but stop with the magical thinking. Lots of people write books. The reward is in the writing. Getting published is the work.
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Meanwhile, write another one. Find the humour in trading time and effort to make money. The stuff of life some of us find rewarding and some of us don't. At all. Except without doing it, without having done it, what would I have to write about that others can appreciate as a break from being who we're paid to be and not who we are.
My dreams?
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The other night I had a dream my mother got better. I went home to visit her and found she'd left the nursing home and was back in our house, healthy, younger looking. Smiling. Happy to see me but a little confused by my concern.
"I quit drinking" she laughed. "That's all it was."
Then I asked her where all her friends were.
"I haven't told them."
Well I told her they'd like to know and she should tell them because they'd been very worried about her. So she did. Then they all showed up, filling the house, and it was a party. Her best friend was there and suggested I move back home, I could drive everybody around because nobody had their licence anymore. They'd pay me to do it. I'd have a job. Then I saw my mother walking up the street with an empty glass. She said she was going for some water. I wasn't sure I believed her but she seemed so happy and confident. I wanted to make sure it all lasted so I decided, yes, I should move back home and look after her. Not even should, I wanted to. Start over at the beginning but all grown up, find fulfillment in keeping this irresponsible mother of mine on the straight and narrow.
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