I’ve always had quite vivid dreams.
At least, I’ve always thought I had quite vivid dreams.
When I was little, my nightmares were terrifying because they were so realistic. Not so much the dinosaurs trampling me and my mum on the way to school, but how everything else looked and felt so real.
Dreams are the same – the odd and the extreme, all in whirlwinds of colour – and quite difficult to get out of my head afterwards. I’m one of those people who gets annoyed at people for things that happened in my head (you might say irrational) – despite them having absolutely no control over it. It’s unfair, but my dreams and nightmares have such an emotional connection that it’s just what’s left over when I wake up.
I thought about it the other day – and I can’t remember the last time I had a nightmare. My nightmares were frequent and terrifying, and would leave me wide awake in the night, terrified to go back to sleep and relieved to see my boyfriend actually breathing. You know the feeling, your body is pulsing with adrenaline, but you’re frozen to the spot wanting to make the bad thoughts go away.
It’s been a long time since I’ve had one of those nights.
I’ve been off the anti-depressants for nearly 5 months now and there have been ups and downs. I’ve found myself getting stuck in a few patterns again – needing to pee twice before I go into a meeting/ travel anywhere, but it’s twice rather than the four or five times as it was at the height of my anxiety.
But the nightmares (and dreams with them, unfortunately) seem to have disappeared.