Do you have recurring stress dreams? I’ve had the same one for years and I think it’s related to my former work life and a lot of travel – presenting at conferences and seminars around the country. I LOVED that part – doing the workshops and visiting with people. But traveling for me – then and now – prompts a few quirks and if you ask my friends about it, they’ll tell you my behaviors are more than quirky. Here’s a sample:
- I will not check a bag, given my recurring misfortune with lost luggage. Even if we needed to tote our own laptop and in the old days, our own projectors, along with handouts and other materials, I’d either ship things ahead (if possible) or find a way to disguise equipment as carry-on luggage. Which meant I had less room for my own stuff – clothes, shoes, undies and bathroom supplies. I’m a wiz at rolling a week’s worth of clothes into tidy little, shrink-wrapped nuggets.
- I admit I can take things a step too far. My specialty! Once, my dear friend Linda laughed her butt off at me because I bought an Inspector Gadget-like jacket. (You know – with a ton of bulky pockets. See pic above.) I’d channel my inner pack mule and wear a coat that held a mix of socks, charging cables, an i-Pad and cosmetics. Truth? I only wore it once because it was the most uncomfortable trench coat ever. Imagine sitting on a boar bristle round brush for three hours in a cramped airplane seat. I should’ve thought about where that hair necessity was going when I shoved it into an open pocket. But I liked the concept of…um…wearable luggage, LOL!
- I’m a terrible, awful navigator. It doesn’t matter if there’s a rental car involved or if we’re tromping around on foot. Rudderless thanks to my lackluster inner-GPS and without adult supervision (heck – any supervision – kids do better than I do) I will get lost. Epically. I once found myself in Indiana by mistake. But that’s a separate story.
- Just once (but once was plenty!) Linda and I had a panic moment at a huge convention center because the venue was the size of several city blocks and as we lugged…. our luggage…we kept lapping the same indoor landmarks. Coffee shops, scenic fountains, the same ballrooms and swanky atriums with indoor, three-story palm trees. We were also sleep deprived and hungry, so there’s that. But when a strange man started following us – keenly aware that we were easy marks, we realized how stupid we were. Two dufus women clearly lost in space…and getting the giggles. We knew we needed to pull ourselves together and walk faster, with determination. Purpose. Decorum! Only once did the odd dude approach, but his offer of “Hey girls, I can show you around” freaked us out. Maybe he was only trying to help but we put our weary feet into overdrive. And…even though we asked for help from uniformed employees more than once, it still took us an hour to find our hotel room. The memory is vivid. Full color detail…as if it happened a moment ago.
Are you getting the picture? Now the stress dream. (I know…like all that I already shared wasn’t enough, right?)
Given the preamble you’ve suffered through, it should be no surprise that my recurring sweaty dream is about getting lost in an airport and/or a big convention center/hotel. And not JUST lost. I’m late for my…plane…or presentation…you pick…from the stress dream menu but bear in mind: The same crisis entrée is served every time.
In the dream, I leave my purse, wallet, ID and travel documents in the hotel room I just checked out of and I’m running like an elite athlete, hauling butt to get back to the room before housekeeping throws my stuff in the trash.
Every time. Same stupid fever dream and I wake up, realizing it was just a nightmare and I DO know exactly where my purse is. All is well. I’m home. I’m safe. That is…until a new twist occurred with the most recent version of the fever dream.
Do you know what a lucid dream is? I needed to crawl back into some psych resources to reconnoiter my memory with the facts but when I put the pieces together, I was hot dog happy about becoming more than a voyeur in my own dream state. Yep. In the most recent incarnation of my recurring dream, I took control:
I popped in to challenge the stupid, anxiety-ridden romp with a simple message: “Hey there…you’re dreaming, ya dumb bunny. You’ve been here before. You haven’t lost a thing.”
In my lucid dream, I’m having this convo with myself whilst in the hotel room. The same one that recurs, every time, in my nightmare. I’m watching me…talking to frantic me… as I’m flailing around, tossing the bed linen, urgently searching for my missing purse.
Across the queen bed, as the comforter falls to the mattress, Fever-Dream-Vicki is confronted by Check-Yourself-Vicki as reassuring words are offered…with a little dig. I knew it was me…talking to me…in the dream because only I would call myself a dumb bunny. My pet name for myself. Yup. Better than fingerprinting. That was me in the dream.
But the point? I’ve never been a player in my own subconscious romp before. Have you? Whether it’s fatigue or eating green beans before bedtime (a wacky remnant from mom, Sue – her explanation when she had bad dreams – which prompts the query – who eats green beans before bed anyhow?) my stress dreams are exhausting.
There you have it. Lucid dreaming, Vicki-style. My first experience with time-stopping self-talk about rampant fears of losing my purse. I like the fact that I could intervene with a this isn’t real, you’re at home newsflash. New tools for the toolkit, I say!
It may never happen again, but if it does, I’m ready to receive and welcome this new superpower to help me feel a sense of control, safety, agency.
One more Dream Weaver story? Yep. I’ve got one for you over on Heart of the Matter. This one is far less stress-inducing. It’s all about a hug from the great beyond when I needed one the most with a little 70’s vibe just for fun.
Vicki 😊
Victoria Ponders 
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