I Appreciate The Nightmare

For showing me the way to my own personal hell.

The dream is a little hidden door in the innermost and most secret recesses of the soul, opening into that cosmic night which was psyche long before there was any ego consciousness, and which will remain psyche no matter how far our ego consciousness extends.

Carl Jung

I woke up from a nightmare this morning.

That isn’t strange, it’s familiar.

Nothing about this is strange. Not here.

My wife hears me then calls my name and gently touches me.

She lets me know she is here, that I am here.

This morning I was saying “Help. Please.”

And I remember why, though only for a short while longer.

At some point in the nightmare, after all this practice, I remember that I have nightmares.

I remember that they’re vivid and that they’re painful.

Though I can’t say I know I’m in them or having them.

I just hope it is one.

But there is hope, beyond the hope OF the nightmare.

It is the hope that comes FROM the nightmare.

They are, to me, reminders not to take for granted all I have.

They have themes that I explore, now willingly, to ensure they never manifest here.

Many revolve around the consequences of neglecting my duties as a husband and a partner.

Not taking seriously the role of mate and friend to my spouse.

Not committing to the privilege of being a father to my children.

And a child to my parents while I still have the time.

And they show me what happens if I live selfishly.

Foolishly.

Destructively.

They end with me, alone, and knowing full well it was my fault I lost everything.

They allow me to die in the impermanent state of the dream so I do not have to die here.

And so while they are painful.

I appreciate the nightmare.

For showing me the way to my own personal hell.

And allowing me to keep from that path.