Dream Your Way to Recovery

I used to dream I was bedbound. Just be lying there. Hours of nothingness to match my days of emptiness.

That’s when I knew I was in trouble.

If I couldn’t remember being able to move even when asleep, how could I ever hope to do it awake?

Dreams are important. We all need to have one. Martin Luther King Jnr talked about his and no one laughed at him.

Dreams are an important gauge of expectations in recovery. What are your dreams telling you?

I did start dreaming I was in a wheelchair. Eventually I got into one. Then I couldn’t even dream I could walk again.

So I didn’t. Not for a long time.

Don’t let anyone laugh at your dreams. Or let them tell you they can’t become a reality. Sick or well. People used to laugh at me all the time, which is fine, some of my dreams seemed fairly ridiculous. Waking, dressing myself, leaving the house. Moving to London.

Talking on camera for a living.

Some of my dreams still seem family ridiculous now. I dream about talking to everyone in the country. Having a brew and a chat with them all. Taking a camera into their homes. Sharing their stories. Hearing their dreams.

Are dreams personal things? Should we feel self-conscious sharing them? Of being that open and vulnerable? Why is it easier to pick holes in our reality then concentrate on the stuff we want? Exploring the new fabric we wish our lives to be made of?

There has to be a bridge between where we stand now and where we really wish to be. Dreams are great at bringing the two worlds together. Just for a little while anyway. Safe in our beds. Like we were as little ones.

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

Children dream all the time. Asleep or awake. They spend hours of their day playing make-believe. Living the existence they want. Turning the full focus of their attention to that, over the reality they have. A box becomes a spaceship. Stairs become mountains. Sofas become islands.

Children also recover from illness and surgery more quickly than any adult.

My dreams used to frighten me. Then they overwhelmed me. Now they are the yardstick I measure my life’s progress by. There’s no ceiling to dreams. No limit. They evolve as we do. They’re how we know we aren’t done. And isn’t that the most exciting part? Knowing that the best is yet to come.

That if we can dream it there’s every chance we could be it.

Use your dreams; stretch them as far as you can. It doesn’t matter if you’re in recovery or not. Everyone can benefit from suspending reality for a while and shooting a little higher than they’ve ever gone before. Respect your dreams. The power of them. If I hadn’t made myself change mine over time I’d still be in my parents spare room asking them to dress and feed me.

Sweet Dreams to you all x


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