Caught in Dream: Many people think trauma, sleep paralysis, depression, and internal struggle are myths and just fancy terms. But ask someone who can’t sleep in peace; ask someone who often gets nightmares. They can’t even explain the situation they are in.
And the dreams flash with all the hurtful memories, every time in a more creative way; sometimes they just repeat again and again.
Today, what I am going to tell you is that you won’t believe that it happened in real life. This is not a story; it happens in real life with many of the people who are traumatized by their past or with those who hold some kind of fear.
Our lives have a great impact on our dreams. It reflects our lives and fears exactly as they are, in a confusing manner.
With all this in my mind, I still wonder: What are dreams?
Read this story ahead to feel the fear of dreams.
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Caught in Dream
Have you heard of sleep paralysis? Have you ever experienced one?
Sleep paralysis might sound like a modern term, but it is real.
I often have terrible nightmares, and in those I am sometimes trapped. I try hard to wake up, but I can’t. I see all my fears coming to me. I lose my breath, unable to get up, knowing it is a dream. I start crying and yelling, but my voice doesn’t come out of my throat.
I see someone approaching me, and boom, I wake up.
After contemplating myself a lot, I have finally decided to write about this.
The last time when I had slit my wrist, I had sleep paralysis. I was struggling to wake up. In the dream, I woke up, yet I found myself on the bed again and again.
The blood was flowing out of my veins; I was not in sense.
I saw it. I saw myself—maybe my spirit—standing in front of me. From the other view, I saw myself lying in bed. I was not sure what this situation was until I found out about a fancy term for sleep paralysis.
Luckily, that day, someone knocked on the door of my room. I could only open my eyes a little bit and see my soul fading in front of my eyes. And I woke up fine and opened the door.
But what happened today was scarier, which made me write this journal.
Meet Aisha, guys; she is a freelance writer. Working from home had really made her life easy. But this is not something she ever planned for. Even after she tries hard to manage her schedule and get some time to chill without her laptop, she can’t.
She bears some scars that can never fade away. From a young age, she was traumatized by her past. Domestic violence, molestation, slut-shaming, and hate from the ones she loved were the reasons. Nightmares are a common thing for her, but every time they come, they make her question her entire life, and she couldn’t help this.
Hear her out.
So, basically, these days, most of the time, I go with my laptop. And it’s not due to workload; it’s because I don’t have any workload. I also tried trading in the stock market, but after losing some of my investments, I quit. I am away from my little brother, which breaks my heart.
After not finding any work, I decided to take a nap, and something unreal happened. I know this will be complicated to understand and even more complicated to write, but I am still giving it a go.
I was having a sound sleep until I decided to wake up. In the dream, I knew it was a dream; I was forcing myself to wake up.
I tried to wake up, yet I found myself on the bed. I was not able to move even my little finger. I saw someone coming to me; he hugged me in the most disgusting manner, snuck his hand beneath my t-shirt, and was touching my breasts.
I wanted to push him away; I wanted to slap him hard, but I was not able to make any movement.
It was exactly like I was paralyzed or as if I were brain dead. I was able to see everything, but I couldn’t speak for myself.
This is something I would say was Aisha’s past situation, but even if she now lives alone, far from those who hurt her, she moved out of her previous home two years ago. Still, she could forget all that she feels like—that someone will come drag her out, take her back to hell, and trap her there.
She always dreams that she is back in her previous home and that she could run away from there. Everybody is constantly blaming her for her sufferings. They are blaming her for all the misfortune, yelling at her, and locking her in a room. Telling her that she is the root cause of all the bad things.
And she was always waking up crying, “I don’t want to stay here; let me go.” This was the last thing she actually cried about before leaving her previous home. I doubt if I should call it her home.
The mayhem of dreams….
Again and again, I tried to wake up, but all my efforts went futile. And then I found myself in a whole different world. I didn’t know where I was or what the place was, but I saw a big screen with a chart of the share market open.
I was trying to close it, but it was showing, “Request can’t be executed.”
It was as if I was making a request to wake up from my dream, but my body and mind are not allowing me to.
The market trend was going lower and lower, and I was constantly trying to exit the screen. I wanted to get out of that place. But the screen was repeatedly showing “Request can’t be executed” and “Request can’t be executed.”
Finally, when the trend hit its bottom,
I was again on my bed, frozen in one spot.
The chains were not visible, yet I found myself tied to the bed. Again, the man was approaching me, and I tried hard to come to my senses. Finally, I woke up from the dream and sat on the bed.
“Oh no”. I was not out of it. It was another dream.
I was dreaming of dreams in my dream.
The man was sitting beside me. I was struggling to wake up; it was suffocating me when I found a piece of cloth tied to my neck very strongly. I was choked up. The more I tried to remove the cloth from my neck, the more compact it got.
I was about to hit the bottom of my strength; my whole body was shaking in fear. I thought I would never wake up from this dream.
I thought I should call it quits, when I saw a lady with a little child in her hands coming inside my room.
Her gentle voice hit my ears: “Wake up, dear.” Was she my mom, who was long dead when I was four?
Was the child in her hand my little brother, whom I love a lot? I was trying to understand the mayhem.
“No, don’t take him away,” was all I thought, and I put all my strength into waking up, lest I want to lose my brother too.
I was short on breath and struggling; I felt as if I were walking out of one door and entering the next. I was caught up in the infinite loop of dreams. I was crying in my sleep. Tears leaked up from the corners on my eyes.
“Please, wake up.” I told myself.
When I opened my eyes, she was not there, nor was my little brother. I saw a distinctive man standing at a distance who went farther and farther from me and eventually faded away into thin air.
Who is he? I really don’t know.
My room was all dark. For a moment, I was not able to distinguish between the dream and reality.
“Am I awake? Am I out of a dream?”
I got out of bed, looked at it, and thought, “Am I still sleeping?”
“What was the dream?” “Was it a reflection of my real life, my pain, my trauma?” I tried to solve the mayhem of dreams but failed and lit the lights in my room.
So, these were two of the most horrible cases of Aisha’s sleep paralysis. once when she had slit her wrist, and again when she casually went for a nap.
Why did she say the latter was scarier? In the first one, she almost lost her life. Still, she found the second one scarier.
Was it because she thought she would lose her one and only brother? Or is it because she thought she would always be caught in dream?
Do you think living is scarier than dying for her?
Also Read: Shattered Echoes, Mended Hearts