Thursday, July 8, 2010

In which Shana dreams

I did a blog post this Sunday over on SoapBoxDreams where I closed on the note that this is why I no longer Lucid Dreamed.

And honestly, my dreams are pretty interesting without any interference, so I let them progress naturally these days. My dreamscape is the source of much inspiration, and many a world has been created because of a dream or two.

I became a lucid dreamer when I was a child. It progressed naturally, and out of necessity.

When I was a child, awful things happened to me. These awful things were burned (and still are to a certain extent) into my psyche to the point that they constantly haunted me. My dreams were no exception.

So I had recurring nightmares. Over and over again. I'd wake up crying and with screams stuck in my throat. I used to do what all children do, run to my mommy for help. There was a time, before I was 7, that I thought she was a nurturer.

Let me tell you this, my mother is NOT a nurturer, and never EVER will be.

I'd wake her up, sobbing and begging for her to help me. Hoping she'd hug me and tell me it'd be all okay. I mean, she KNEW the things that had happened, but I didn't realize that the simple fact that she was still banging the guy who hurt me meant that I wasn't high on her list of priorities.

Anyhow, she'd murmur in her sleep at me to think about butterflies.

At first, I'd dream about butterflies with fangs that were trying to kill me*, which I assure you is a much better nightmare than my previous ones. but eventually, knowing that no one was going to save me from my nightmares but me, I learned to make those damned butterflies pretty and happy.

Let me assure you of this though. I still didn't like to sleep. While I could control and change the dreams I did have, I never learned how to START dreaming where I wanted to. I always HAD to start dreaming naturally, and most of the time THAT was in a nightmare.

Soon, I could bring the butterflies into dreams with me, so when the nightmares started... they could whisk the 'bad' stuff away. It got to the point where I didn't need the butterflies anymore, and I could just make changes to my dreams/nightmares.

I came to rely on this ability throughout my teens. Things were tough, and it seemed like parts of my history were repeating themselves and the nightmares came back. The only difference was, the nightmare had changed in tone. It was darker, more sinister.

And I lost my ability.

At first at least. Fear as a way of paralyzing you especially when you haven't had to face it down, or when your waking life is just as fearful. It took a few nightmares, a few nights of waking up covered in sweat with that old familiar scream stuck in my throat; but I got it.

I took the reigns of that nightmare and made it my fantasy.

Since then, life hasn't been so awful. And while I still bear the brands of my youth, it doesn't always consume me as it once did. As such, I don't dream about it anymore.

Instead, I have some of the most epically fucked up dreams ever, so while I *could* lucid dream it, and focus on specific things... I'd rather take in the scenery.

*this is probably where the intense fear of bugs that fly and sting came from. While I am highly allergic to the whole lot of them, I've been afraid of them longer than the allergy got bad enough to notice.

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