I've been struggling with sleep. I have crazy, anxiety-riddled dreams. Last night I dreamed of touching contaminated things and then my face. I dreamed of my family getting sick. I dreamed of fear and anxiety. Last week, I dreamed my young son (11 years old) died because I didn't get up when he asked for something so he played with a gun.
Clearly, my anxiety, fears, and feelings of inadequacy are coming through whether I acknowledge them or not. I've read I'm not alone. Many people are reporting they are having crazy, vivid, or anxious dreams.
It's no surprise, really; we are all in an absurd situation where we are asked to continue as if the world is normal when it is anything but. We must continue working and take on schooling children. I've seen more and more people on social media admitting their weaknesses and acknowledging emotions, but then they pick up their mantle of optimism and return to their spreadsheets. What choice do they have? I admire my friends, family, and acquaintances who are being strong and forging ahead in reality. There is the alternative of giving up, I suppose. But the human spirit enables us to force our fear, grief, and uncertainty back down in order to continue to put one foot in front of the other. That beast rears its ugly head when our conscious selves finally rest. And we dream.
Does it help to acknowledge this paradigm? Perhaps. Perhaps in nodding to our fears we give ourselves permission to be scared. To acknowledge we are uncomfortable not knowing when the elusive "normal" will return. To face the truth that we have no real control over whether the virus takes hold of us or not-battling an unseen, unfamiliar foe with gloves, homemade masks, and cans of Lysol. To look our daily inadequacies in the eye and admit they have always been our companion, only amplified by bizarre circumstances.
And that last admission-that the inadequacies we already battled accompanied us into this twilight zone is an idea I've seen popping up more. Why did I dream I put my son off in my dream only to lose him because I wasn't protecting him? Because I know I'm not paying as much attention to his needs, his education, his anxieties as I'd like. Because I want to wrap him in bubble wrap to protect him from every scary facet of this situation. And because I never feel I'm doing enough for him and always want to protect him-even in the best of circumstances. I think of Marlin, the dad in "Finding Nemo," realizing that he would stunt his son's development if he protected him too much. I hold my son a second longer and make a point of reading a few chapters to him in the evening. And then I take a deep breath and try to remember I am only human.
This scary time is also an opportune time. It is a gift of time to embrace our limitations and to adjust what we can. To learn to live with ourselves, fears and all, even in the apocalyptic environment of sheltering in place. And to allow our conscious selves to wage these battles so that our subconscious, sleeping selves can rest and refuel.
May this night be full of peaceful, deep sleep for you, friends.
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