I was suffering from night terrors that went all the way back to my childhood. It was really disturbing.
I couldn’t figure out why this was happening and so I consulted my friend Nat who’s a clinical psychologist.
Talkng to him helped me see what happened—I tried to redact my meories and reframe them so I could live with my guilt. But they didn’t stay hidden for long and evntually emerged at night in my dreams.
Even my experience the night before meeting Sofia at the tavern wasn't simply a random occurrence. It had the feel of synchronicity to it, as if it were meant to be.
The universe was conspiring to 'out' me.
It was uncanny that I'd try lucid dreaming as a way to banish nightmares, only to find these night terrors were actually my subconscious talking back to me about my past.
It was disturbing because it revealed events I couldn't face, so I revised the memory.
I know those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it. But talk about living in bad faith―if I censored my memories, how could I ever be sure of my own identity?
The fact is, running into Sofia Ricci was a meaningful occurrence because it was undeniable proof my night terrors were real and I couldn't keep burying them.
Ironically, I was trying to use lucid dreaming to control my dreams and make them less threatening, but now I saw the only way to do that was to admit the truth I was hiding all this time.
I cheated on Emma.
I hate to say it, but admitting the truth to myself makes me nauseous but it also makes me feel more authentic.
The only problem is I wonder how many other past events I've air brushed or blue pencilled?
The only way out of a dark mist is to keep on going.
For some reason using the lucid dreaming technique enables me to see the past more clearly. If I can see my past mistakes, it will help me change them.
So, once again I relax on the couch before the fire, and put on the Dreamweaver mask I purchased online that allows me to cue my subconscious.
I have no idea where this journey will take me but I surrender to the process.
I quickly fall asleep and find myself back in my childhood―the summer we moved to a new house, away from the friends I grew up with.
That was a hard summer being on my own and friendless, but in my dream I recalled the local counsellor at a youth centre inviting me to join the programs and make some new friends. I felt it was a pity invite and my pride prevented me from admitting I was vulnerable.
I ended up spending the summer alone, my pride intact, but feeling totally miserable.
It was the only time in my life I couldn't wait for school to start―I was that desperate for socialization.
But starting a new school ended up being even more of a nightmare. I recall that first day, my mother asking me to see my little sister got registered.
I spent an hour with her until she was safely admitted, but when I arrived late at my own class, the teacher took an instant dislike to me.
He didn't believe my excuse for being late and made up his mind I'd be a trouble maker. He wouldn't listen to my explanations and ordered me to my seat.
He was a dour, ex-monk who evidently was overburdened with a large number of pupils and I was the straw that broke the camel's back, appearing at the eleventh hour.
It went downhill from there. I was strapped every day for every minor pretext he could invent and he made my life totally intolerable.
As often happens when one is labelled a black sheep, the other sheep reject the outsider. The other students either stayed away from me or tried to bully and demean me.
One day, two boys who sat near me and constantly mocked me decided to turn the whole class against me. The girls had joined with the other senior class for choir and all the senior boys were gathered in my class for Phys Ed. That's when my tormentors turned the entire class of boys against me.
It began in the school yard with all the boys trying to haze me and wrestle me down to the ground, but In terror I fought them off and they weren't successful.
I thought I escaped when the recess bell rang, but back in the classroom I heard my tormentors urging the boys to get me when I left class to go to lunch.
Ordinarily, I would alert the teacher and ask for help, but Mr. Higgins, the ex-monk looked even more dour and dark when the lunch bell sounded.
The two tormentors stood by the door leering and calling. "Come on Jase, time for lunch," until Higgins lost his patience and told them to get out and growled at me to get going.
He sent me off to my doom. As I exited the classroom I could see a crowd of boys waiting at the exit. I never broke the rules, but that day I was desperate. I turned in the opposite direction and escaped through the girl's exit.
The cry went up behind me and the hounds pursued me but I was the fastest runner in the class and they weren't able to catch up with me.
I stayed home sick that afternoon and by the nest day the incident was forgotten.
I awoke with a start, sweating and terrified, This was the nightmare that haunted me all my life―the proof that I was a failure.
I lay back breathing heavily, wretched and feeling desolate, until it dawned on me―I was a survivor. The entire combined boys' class couldn't wrestle me to the ground and they were simply sheep afraid of Higgins.
I stood my ground. Yes, I stayed home that afternoon, but I had won a clear victory. Still, all my life I had felt ashamed, believing I was weak and powerless.
It was why I always caved to temptation and gave up when things got difficult. But now I realized I was strong.
I had simply believed the wrong narrative. Maybe there was hope for me still and I could recover and live a more authentic life.
