My Mind Turns Everyday Anxieties into Emotional Dramas, What’s New?
The average person has around 3 to 5 dreams a night. Last night, I felt every one of my 3 to 5 dreams, each one filling me with anxiety, fear, guilt, regret, and a mix of other negative emotions. You would think these were your regular nightmares—snakes, spiders, maybe killer clowns chasing you. But no! My brain prefers to take real-life scenarios, twist them, and make me live out things I’d never want to experience. Worst of all, I usually remember my dreams the next day, allowing me to relive them over and over again. As much as I wish it were different, this isn’t anything new for me. My worst fears and anxieties have manifested in my dreams for as long as I can remember.
When I was about 10 or 11, my parents started fighting more often. Around that time, I had a dream that they got divorced. As a result, my dad, who didn’t speak English well then, struggled with basic things like paying bills and ordering food. My mom didn’t make enough money to support herself, but in the dream, she married another man—a chubby, bald white guy with a beard and seven daughters. In the dream, I’d see my dad, depressed and drinking alone, while my mom played with her new husband’s daughters, pushing them on swings as if I didn’t exist. Refusing to accept him as my new father, I would sit on the sidelines watching. That dream scared me so much that when I woke up, I made my parents sign a crayon-written contract promising they wouldn’t get divorced. This is just one example.
In high school, I had this recurring dream where I didn’t finish my homework on time. I’d walk into class, panicked, desperately trying to complete it. Luckily, the teacher would say, “Everyone has to turn in their homework…but first, everyone has to take a shower.” Then she’d point at a bathtub in the middle of the classroom. Okay okay, it was weird and random as fuck—but it was a dream. Dreams don’t tend to make sense. So I got in the shower, closed the curtains, and instead of showering, I frantically worked on my homework. I was sitting there trying to figure it out when the teacher called, “Are you almost finished?” I knew I’d have to turn it in the second I got out of that bathtub, so I stalled, answering, “Almost done.” And that was my dream. Never found out if I managed to turn my homework in on time in my dream, but it motivated me to make sure I always did in real life.
Dreams like these have always haunted me. The worst ones are the ones where I do things I’d never do in real life. One example that comes to mind happened this summer. I was visiting a college friend in her hometown, staying with her and her family. The first night there, I dreamt that I outed her to her parents. In the dream, I was upset with her and my other friend; feeling jealous of how much closer they were and how left out I felt. These feelings built up and I “accidentally” let it slip that she was gay. Even though it was just a dream, I felt terrible. I woke up with tears streaming down my face and felt so guilty that I told her about it the next day and apologized. Waking up to realize it was just a dream is a relief, but it doesn’t always erase the guilt, so I try to apologize in real life, too.
Last night, it happened again. I dreamt I hurt a friend without meaning to. I was at dinner with my guy friend from college, another guy, and a girl. The details are fuzzy, but by the end of dinner, it was clear I was using my friend to make the other guy jealous. I was being flirty with him, which is very out of character for our friendship. But I wasn’t in control. All I could do was watch as I kept acting in ways I’d never do consciously. By the end, the other guy gave me his number, so apparently, my plan worked—but my friend realized I’d only been playing with his feelings. His face dropped when he realized what I did. He looked completely heartbroken, but he just walked away. I’d never seen him like that, which only made me feel worse. Later, he messaged me, “What you did was terrible. You really hurt my feelings.” Knowing he’s not usually open about his feelings made me feel even worse. I was typing out a heartfelt apology, begging him to forgive me, when I woke up, once again with tears in my eyes. It wasn’t the fully awake, “Oh, thank God it was a dream” kind of moment, though. It was that half-asleep state where reality and dreams blur together. So I actually opened my messages and texted him an apology, then fell back asleep, slipping right into more unsettling dreams.
What I find to be really interesting, however, is how realistic dreams can feel. Our minds can create these entire worlds that mimic life, pulling in our deepest fears and insecurities, and at the time, we believe it to be real. We don’t question it. These dream “realities” feel so realistic, including the emotions it stirs. Every emotion—whether it’s fear, guilt, or relief—stick with me, as if the dream actually happened. Even after I wake up, the emotions stay with me like memories that won’t fade. No matter how much I remind myself that it was all just in my head, the feelings can sometimes be hard to shake.
