A had a dream that my therapist had a break down and could no longer work with me. In the dream she was crying her eyes out, bawling in front of a handful of her patients, telling us about how she could not manage all these things any more.
I asked her “Can I ask you a question?”, and when she nodded I said “When you feel this distressed and have this much going on, do you know how to cope or does it make you want to end it all?”
She replied that for the first time in her life, she was indeed thinking along those lines. She also admitted that she finally felt she could understand what it must be like to be me.
She said that her limits had lowered and that she wouldn’t be able to see me any more, as the torrential tears continued. I left dazed, in shock, angry as hell but refusing to let myself really feel it because I knew rationally that it wasn’t her fault – and I was deeply sad for her. Nevertheless, the prospect of losing my therapist felt like a stab in the heart. In the next part of the dream I was hanging on for dear life from a rocky bridge made of slippery plastic sheets, above a 100m drop over rapid waters.
I woke up shaken. I have never seen my therapist as vulnerable as I saw her in my dream. I feel the need to text her, to reach out and ask her if she is okay; or to seek reassurance that isn’t leaving me. (I won’t, of course – it was ‘just a dream’.)
Dreams are funny things. I dream so vividly that I often cannot differentiate between the dream state and reality, even when I am lucid and ask myself “Am I dreaming?” within them. My body feels the same sensations it would feel as if it were really happening, and I wake up in the emotional state I left the dream within.