The Dreams I Can’t Shake

Some nights, healing doesn’t look like peace.

It looks like panic.

Like cold air and a shadow you can’t outrun.

This is one of those nights.

The first dream came years ago, but it still hasn’t left me.

I was running. Panicked. Chased.

The world around me looked like something out of the Upside Down—dark, cold, twisted.

I stumbled into a warehouse, searching for a place to hide. Found a bathroom with no lights. Locked myself inside a stall.

Then—boom.

The door ripped off its hinges.

And standing there… was something darker than the dark around it.

I couldn’t see its face, but I could feel it watching me. Breathing.

There was no way out. I was frozen.

I woke up drenched in sweat. My heart racing. My body locked in the panic of a past I thought I had escaped.

The second dream came months later. Softer. But it cut even deeper.

I was walking through a beautiful field—green pastures, soft skies. Peaceful.

Then a boy approached me.

Young.

Terrified.

He looked familiar.

Because he was me.

He stared up at me and asked, “Am I going to be okay?”

And I couldn’t answer.

I just looked at him, holding back tears.

Because I didn’t know.

He was asking me the same thing I had been asking myself for years.

And I didn’t have the words.

I’ve had a lot of therapy.

Read a lot of books.

Talked through a lot of pain.

But nothing has ever captured my inner world quite like those dreams.

The beast that reminds me of what I’ve run from.

And the boy who reminds me of what I still haven’t fully healed.

Trauma doesn’t just live in memory. It lives in muscle. In sleep. In silence.

But here’s the thing—

I’m still here.

Still building. Still healing. Still answering that question every day:

“Am I going to be okay?”

And maybe now, I’m starting to believe:

Yes.

One day at a time.

One piece at a time.

And if you’ve had dreams you can’t shake?

You’re not alone.

I get it.

I’m with you.

And I’m not running anymore.