Nightmares

“In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for you alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety.” Psalm 4:8

Trigger Warning: The first paragraph alludes to a sexual assault. If this isn’t the right time for you to read this, feel free to skip over.

Last night, I had a nightmare. The vivid details merged childhood events into the present day. My abuser crawled into my current bed, defiling the tranquility I have created in my room. He put his finger to his lips, signaling me to be quiet. In my dream, I smelled his sweat mingled with Camel cigarettes and cheap beer just like I had as a child. His ominous eyes glared at me with the look I knew all too well. I knew what he was after. I felt my body trembling but somehow, I also knew that, unlike when I was a child, my cry for help would be heard. He started to lay on the bed, and I quavered out a cry for help. I don’t know what I sounded like to my husband, but in a few seconds, Terry’s arms around me awakened me from my nightmare. My abuser and his wretched smell faded, and I turned over, falling back into a peaceful sleep.

These nightmares come and go. I may go for long periods of times never dreaming about what happened over thirty-five years ago. Maybe because I am writing about it, or maybe for no reason at all, I then go a few months with nightmares occurring regularly. And then they dissipate. Terry has realized he doesn’t even need to say anything, but the simple comfort of his hand typically disturbs my nightmare enough to bring me back to peace. Occasionally, they may be more intense, and then he just softly speaks my name, and again, peace follows.

It’s Halloween time when most of the United States celebrates the spooky and scary. Yards are decorated with ghosts, zombies, and mummies. The timeless Charlie Brown classic, “The Great Pumpkin” is streaming on screens. Pumpkins are carved, fake spider webs are hung on porches, and candy is bought. Costumes are designed, kids are anxious for the sugar rush, and apples are dipped in caramel. Many churches try to minimize the spooky and promote safety by hosting “Trunk-n-Treat” events. When my children were younger, our church had an alternative Fall Fest, where we had games, candy, and costumes. I do not want to engage in debate for pros and cons about Halloween in this post. My reason for writing about this is more about the season and what it entails.

Fear has monetary value because it entertains people. It is evident in the sales of Stephen King novels, one of the more prolific horror writers. Slasher movies have multiple sequels and even historical towns like Gettysburg have ghost tours. I don’t like horror, but I do enjoy a good murder mystery or suspense thriller, when the writing creates an atmosphere that has your spine tingling with the “what ifs”. I am currently immersed in Louise Penny’s “Three Pines” series with the thoughtful Inspector Gamache who peels back desires and motives, leading to the suspect.

Despite my childhood trauma, and my love for murder mysteries, I am not a fearful person. I am not afraid of the dark, don’t mind taking walks by myself, and don’t jump at loud noises. My biggest fear is related to animals: I am uncomfortable around them. But I am even learning to overcome that fear. Especially when my dear friend Elizabeth has five dogs who welcome me exuberantly whenever I enter her home!

On the other hand, I do have some healthy fears that drive me to make positive choices in my life. About five years ago, I feared my morbid obesity would lead to an early death. This inspired me to make healthy choices resulting in a significant weight loss. I have put back on some of the weight, but my desire to live a long life has motivated me to get back to being strong and healthy. I am back to making different choices that promote health, flexibility, and strength. Good health will enable me to create more memories with my family, especially my grandchildren.

I have a healthy fear of unforgiveness. I have seen in others how lifelong grudges embitter a person. In my own life, I have seen how holding onto offenses and letting them build up causes me to waste energy and time rehashing the scenario play by play over and over in my mind. It also leads me to gossip or malign a person’s character. And looking in the mirror, I don’t like the person I see. I pursue forgiveness again and again because I am not a saint. It forces me to bring my pain and rejection to God, the only one who can help me work through those emotions. This doesn’t mean an automatic restoration of relationships with those who have caused me pain. Restoration is a two-way street based on repentance and forgiveness. But it does free me from the weight of the offense.

On the flip-side, I am fearful of being too judgmental. Healthy judgment is important; a parent needs to correct a child who is making poor decisions. As an adult, we need to exercise good judgment regarding who we trust. But judgment becomes an overreach when we make uninformed assumptions about someone’s motives and choices. Instead, I choose to listen with open ears, hearing someone’s story about their time in prison or someone else’s addiction. This listening leads to more compassion. I also recognize that God’s forgiveness and promises are not just for me, but for the homeless person on the streets, the addict in my neighborhood, and for those who are imprisoned. The Bible is clear: how I judge others is how I will be judged. If I want God to show me mercy, then I need to show mercy to others. This mercy begins with open ears, an open mind, and an open heart.

I fear being prideful. I am an imperfect human who desperately needs Jesus. I can say unkind things, make poor decisions, and sometimes hurt other people’s feelings. I can also be selfish and self-serving. At these moments, I remind myself that I am insufficient, but I know a God who is all-sufficient. This simple truth helps me be humble enough to admit when I am wrong and when I come up short. I see this evident in my relationship with my adult children. I was a good mom, but I was far from perfect. Occasionally, they will bring up their experiences as a child in my home. Most of it is good, but sometimes I missed some important things that resulted in pain for them. I try not to defend my decisions but acknowledge their feelings and apologize. It’s hard, but even as adults, my children don’t need a perfect mom. They need a mom who is humble enough to acknowledge her mistakes and work on building a stronger relationship.

Finally, I have a healthy fear of God. For many years, this fear was unhealthy. I felt like the gopher in “Whack-A-Mole” waiting to be pounded for any slight mistake. That fear led me into a cyclical relationship of trying to please Him and always feeling like I fell short. I have exchanged that unhealthy fear for a fear based on knowing He is sovereign and in control. It’s more a sense of awe and respect. It motivates me to know Him more, and to accept His will. It’s also trusting that His way is always good. I no longer feel like God is looking for me to pop out of my hole so He can pound me. Instead, I believe He is there to comfort and support me.

Despite what happens in my nightmares, I no longer live in fear of my abuser. I no longer allow the fear I lived in as a child to control me. But I can choose to have healthy fears. These fears don’t limit me or cause me to tremble, instead they move me to action to live my life more fully in Christ.