How to write about nightmares?

I have always been a very vivid dreamer. My dreams as a child were so real I struggled differentiating them from reality. As an adult, they’re still as vivid, but I’ve learned to mentally flag them … I suppose with the memory version of ‘italics.’ Dreams to me are *almost* as real as life itself, but contain no smell and rarely sound, which allows me to now, as an adult, understand what memories are, here, in the world; and what memories occurred in my dreamscapes.

So, let’s talk about fear.

If you live long enough with a person, eventually they tell you what makes them angry, what makes them hurt inside, what keeps them up at night.

With someone who is abusive, perhaps narcissistic, perhaps a psychopath. Perhaps. They eventually tell you all the ways in which they plan to kill specific people they feel have disrespected them in this world. In detail. Repeatedly. A theme that punctuates your year over year existence (assuming you have lived with them a long time).

You learn to sort of side-eye them, and when they laugh and move on, you think to yourself… “okay, funny… right.” Eventually when they get on those themes, you’re like…wow, okay – who watched too much Quentin Tarantino last night? Because, they never, ever, ever act on these imaginary scary things. And they continue to be charming, to be funny, adventurous, hard working, smart. All the things you believe you love.

Then comes the day your world crumbles because they push too hard. The scary enters your reality. They push a fist through a wall, breaking their own arm in the process. They hit themselves in the face so hard they give themselves a massive black eye (and you watch the police eye your small, soft, unmarred hands to verify that you could not have done the damage yourself); and you get the courage to leave.

And you fight the fight. And while you’re fighting desperately to carve yourself a small oasis in the constant barrage of mud and quicksand, you don’t have time to process years, decades, of messages told to you about what exactly that person wishes they could do to someone who disrespects them in a small way.

The night comes when you think you feel safe. And then your very realistic dreams fill in the blanks that life has not let you focus on. When you dream of that person crafting your own demise.

If you’re very unlucky, like me, you know very well they are extraordinarily capable of doing all they fantasized about – my ex was certainly very aware of his own capacity for violence and ability to pull it off. Physically strong, mentally astute. The stuff of nightmares now.

I used to fantasize about walking away into oblivion; somehow that seemed easier than existence – only my children kept me anchored. However, fantasies are not the same thing as a dream. Dreams are there to help us process all the things that have occurred and try to make sense of them subconsciously. Or so I understand…

So what happens when our dreams turn to nightmares? When our exes who shared their dark fantasies of killing others permeate the fabric of our brains. And we dream.? What then?

I have no answer here. My dreams are vivid. They scare me. My ex. Scares. Me. He would be thrilled to the moon to know this.

At 5am I found myself in prayer to God. Take from me this fear, I beg. Please give me the strength to face whatever is to come, and please let me rest for I cannot be any good to You, oh my Lord, if I cannot rest for the fear which carves caverns in my mind.

Eventually I did fall back asleep. I played music at church that seemed to lift others. I helped navigate food donations. I walked my dogs. I hugged my children. I cried, and tried to hide that. I hugged my children, a little too tightly tonight.

I pray to God that tonight I sleep peacefully, because I have bills to pay and I need to keep my fears tucked away.

I pray to God that all the years my ex taught me all the ways he wished to harm people, that I learned those lessons well. That I know his limits. That he is distracted and doesn’t actually choose to finally act out his fantasies.

Goodnight.