Tacked to a corkboard in my room is this black square of construction paper with the words "They are not real" written in chalk. It's right where I can see it when I wake up from a nightmare to remind me that the nightmares do not reflect reality in any way. I needed the reminder because, for a long time, I couldn't tell the difference between nightmare and truth.
I haven't always struggled with nightmares. I never got them as a kid and I didn't understand what the big deal was. When mine started in 2013, I did some research on dreams and found very little for my effort. Nobody really understands what goes on in our brains while we sleep. That's why I'm writing this. Because there are those who defy the statistic that says that only children have nightmares. If those people are anything like me, they have felt alone and, frankly, crazy.
They started gradually. A few scattered nightmares in 2012, followed by two months of consistent nightmares in summer of 2013. There were more in 2014, but it got bad in February of 2015 where I had one nightmare a week for four months. That spell clearly ended by the grace of God. A couple months later though, they came back... and that's where it got crazy.
That August, the nightmares came back with a vengeance. They followed a terribly difficult summer. Confused by what God was doing in my life, I tried to get rid of these nightmares on my own. I relentlessly researched solutions, stayed up late and woke up early, tried new eating habits; I thought I tried everything. Nothing worked. On average, I had a nightmare every two days. Sometimes I could go a whole two weeks without getting one, and sometimes I would get four in one night. They just kept coming month after month after month.
All this I was virtually silent about. By spring of 2016, three people knew how bad things were and they were praying for me. The problem was, I had given up praying for me. I accepted that I didn't understand what God was doing and just let it happen. I stopped trying to cover up the circles under my eyes. I forgot what rest felt like. That year, I accepted the fact that at least once a week I would wake up screaming, sweating, or afraid of whoever I had dreamt about. My understanding of what a nightmare was deepened painfully. Some of my nightmares took people that I loved and changed them. Tweaked them. Gave them new personalities and replaced my memories of them with these new memories that were fake, but oh so real in my head. Because of the frequency and intensity of my dreams, I had forgotten who certain friends really were. Some nightmares involved the deaths of loved ones. Others, recurring ones, gave me new fears like a fear of big dogs and bad men. You see, when I woke up from a nightmare, it stayed in my head. That was the greatest struggle. I couldn't shake them. Images from what I had seen during the night followed me all throughout the day. They bothered me and dragged me down to the point where I was afraid to sleep.
I didn't know how to tell others what I was experiencing. To me, it sounded crazy, dumb, as though I should know better than to be influenced by what I was seeing. It was embarrassing. Because there's nothing "actually wrong." Because it's inexplicable. I couldn't trust my brain to tell me the difference between a real memory and a memory fabricated by a dream. Sproul said one time, "At times, I myself am vexed by thorny questions about memory. I have had dreams so vivid and intense that years later I am not sure if I am remembering a dream or a real experience." Real seemed so far away. I was lost and defeated. When a year passed, I wrote in my diary, "I don't know how to hope that this trend will go away." But it did. After 13 months, it ended.
The fears have faded. I've already forgotten most of the content of my 100+ nightmares, though there are some I may never forget. It's been three months since I had a nightmare. (I had a freak nightmare in late November. That was a big deal, and I'll explain in a minute.) That's the longest peaceful streak I've experienced in two years.
What I've realized is that God doesn't always increase our faith by answering our prayers. "At other times, He leaves our problems but gives us His strength so that we can have victory over them on a day to day basis, thus revealing His sustaining grace." -Sande. Lots of times, He calls us to trust Him in the midst of hard things. "Sometimes He calms the storm, and other times He calms His child." -Krippayne. I'm only beginning to understand the depths of this faith thing. I've failed many times and I know that failing is human and common and a battle that I will fight for the rest of my life. But God is gracious and faithful. "He will cover you with His pinions, and under His wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness is a shield and a buckler. You will not fear the terror of the night. . . When he calls to me, I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble..." Psalm 91: 4-5; 15.
When the nightmares stopped in September, I started to seek advice for what I should do if they came back. I firmly believe that the nightmares stopped because of a conversation I had with my mother. I finally opened up to her about what I had been going through and she listened and helped me. This is the advice that she gave me for if the nightmares ever came back: to write down the details. To tell someone I trust. To pray immediately for faith, trust, peace. Then, one night in late November, I was given a chance to use this advice. I woke up screaming from the worst nightmare I've ever had and I immediately prayed. I wrote down the dream. I kept praying. I listened to music, prayed for the people in my dream, and was able to fall back asleep. Later that week, I told my best friend about my nightmare and she helped me get past it. I haven't had a nightmare since. There's no guarantee they won't come back, but I'm ready this time because I'm surrounded by people who love me and a God who understands.
Moral of the story: you're not alone. You feel alone, you think it's better that way, but it's not. Seek out help. Talk to God. Don't stop talking to God. Tell people you trust and ask them to pray for you and with you. They won't understand. Your battle is different from theirs, different from mine, but just because we don't understand doesn't mean we can't help. People wanted to help me, but I didn't ask them. When I finally did, they responded lovingly. Reach out and let people reach out to you. It makes a difference. It might not make the trouble go away, but you will have help. God gives strength to those who ask.
