The Power Of A Dream

I awoke today in a foul mood. A mood I found difficult to shift no matter how much I tried. It was there when my previous partner arrived to look after our son while I went to my self-defence class. It was there whenever I went into town in the afternoon with my recycling and to pick up a few bits and pieces. It is even still lingering around now, at 7:30pm. And it was all because of something that wasn’t even real! It was because of a dream I had last night.

I have mentioned before in a previous post about how I have kicked a long-term daily habit of smoking marijuana. I have also mentioned how easy that actually was. And it has been. From the moment I decided to stop there have only been a few occasions where the impulse has crossed my mind to have a smoke. As quickly as it arrives, it passes. I simply remind myself why that is no longer an option.

But there has been one drawback. Strangely that drawback has been my dreams. As any long-term smoker will tell you one thing you notice is a distinct lack of dreams when you are smoking regularly. Maybe they are there but you don’t remember them at least so effectively they are non-existent. But when you quit. They come back with a vengeance.

In the beginning this wasn’t an issue. In fact, I was revelling in them. They were so vivid and so realistic. Some were just like an ordinary slice of life. Others like a living surrealist masterpiece like the one I had where people were turning into inanimate objects and vice versa. All good fun really. Even some of the scary ones weren’t so bad as when I awoke I was happy they were just a dream and therefore nothing to fear or worry about.

There was one that had set me off on the wrong foot previously (See a previous post called: When Emotion Takes Over) and that day had turned into a bit of a disaster. Today was something similar. Only it wasn’t as fraught with anger or resentment. It just left me feeling downright sad. A low I found difficult to shift and which I am still carrying a little bit in the back of my mind.

The real kicker. It was such a happy dream.

In that dream my soon-to-be ex-wife and I were still together. We weren’t doing anything special. It was just her and our son and I enjoying a day out at a beach. Playing around on the sand while the sun shone on the three of us. It was filled with giggles and good times. At one point she was lying in my arms telling me she loved me as we watched our son frolicking in the water’s edge.

Just as my mind was swirling with a sense of love and contentedness, I awoke. Then after a few milliseconds that feeling was gone and my reality came flooding back. It was like having to relive all that pain all over again. Of course the months that have passed since our split have helped me come to terms with what has happened, but in that moment it was just as fresh, and heartbreaking, as it once was.

I looked at my son lying sleeping beside me remembering a tough evening we had this week where he told me that he is not happy to be alone with his mummy for any real length of time because, as he had later admitted, she had hurt him. (Emotionally not physically. He was talking about the hurt he has felt since she left). A hurt he doesn’t think she can ever make up for and which makes him feel uneasy in her presence.

That dream and the false happiness it had filled me with effected me all day. It made me think about the things I have no reason to think about any more. What is she now doing with her life? What men are approaching her now she is free and single? Is she truly happy with her decision?

I found it difficult to not let it change the way I behaved towards my ex when she arrived in the morning, remembering the other time a dream had started me off in a mood. It wasn’t real after all. Only a figment of my imagination. My mind playing tricks. Yes, I was a bit off with her but this time I kept my mouth shut and my thoughts to myself. No use stirring an empty pot.

Even now I can’t really fathom why it has held on so long. I keep telling myself it wasn’t real. It was just a dream, nothing more, nothing less. But for some reason, I as yet do not understand, this dream had a power over me and has held me in its sway. As I write this, and bedtime is swiftly approaching, I feel myself feeling a slight case of anxiety over what tonight’s dream may bring. Anxiety I have no need for and which is totally self-inflicted and perhaps unnecessary. Only time will tell.



I had just finished this post when my son had called me looking for his supper and because I did not have time to proof read it I had to leave it until this morning.

Again, and perhaps not surprisingly as I had dwelt on it all day, my ex featured heavily in my dream. I awoke again with the same feeling of loss but with one slight difference. The after effects are not laying as heavy on me as they did previously. Probably because this time when I awoke I had more a sense of ‘not again’ and have found it a bit easier to let go of the feelings it left me with. I wonder is this the reason they are happening? To help me truly let go? Maybe this is the real power of the dream.






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