The burden of a Dreamer

To tell my story, I feel like I have to start at the beginning… I am 23. A girl from Hungary but grew up in Austin, Texas. I didn’t think I was encouraged to read fiction as a kid but I was, I just preferred to be outside. Much of the fiction I consumed was from my dreams.

I grew up with night terrors, which I didn’t know about until this year.

I grew up sleep walking.

I grew up sleep talking.

And I grew up with a stark difference than anyone I knew: I had indescribable depth to my dreams that lasted like short-films every night, and grew into feature films of horror and other-worldly realizations of the mood was wrong.

Eventually my sleep walking weaned into just sleep talking, but my dream life reached even further into vivid landscapes with each passing year.

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Now, 23, on the cusp of 24, and haunted by the wretched smell of 2020 emotions, I feel filled up all the way, to my sky high tolerance, with these dreams I cannot control and I cannot stop.

My chest is tight; my brain is brimming; my software hard drives are full. Even so, each dream, every night, is not recorded fully: the emotions, the setting, the sixth senses, the characters, the air quality, the underlying tones, the significance, the importance of each action within them.

What do I do with all of this information and messages?

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I feel targeted. Yes, these dreams are a gift. Yes, I have worked to remember as much of them as I can. No, I cannot stop. No, I don’t want to come closer to that darkness, that paranormal energy in the night. No, I don’t need psychological help. No. What I need are answers. People who relate and will talk. People who will turn this island into a support circle.

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Poem

Depleted

unknown

scared

islanded

i feel like no one understands me enough to live on this island with me

I. just. don’t. know. how. to. be. my own. knight in shining armor. when I. am silent. on my knees. crying at the foot. of this lava-surrounded. dragon-protected. castle

It’s like. this realm. which this castle exists. cannot see. the draw bridges. reaching out for support. This. realm. it

keeps. them. hidden. in a sheath. of blistering air. rising from lava. Instead

I cannot see. reached out hands. clambering across flimsy wood to my castle. A human race. lifting eyes up. to reach mine. and to. become that. saving:

grace

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The burden of a dreamer equals this:

• I do not have enough time for this. To tell people about the dreams in full; to draw them completely in full; to audio record them in full; to write them in full. I speak the language of dreams–fluently–yet my dialect does not match the person to my right or left.
• Hungarian is a language which few people know. Only one country speaks it in full. I understand, I can only fully be understood in that country or with straggling citizens from the outside. But this dream language, I don’t even have a country I can speak it in.

And false Intuitions feel like this after a while, like self-dignified, isolating lies:

• I am completely alone, overwhelmed. It’s my fault for not getting these [dreams] out. It’s my fault I haven’t grown in this area. It’s my fault for ignoring “the call”.
• I am just lazy. I am just irresponsible. No one can save me from this “impossible”. It is all up to me.

SO

• Am I–only I–responsible for clearing this sheath from my blind eyes?
• When I–I–don’t even know why it rests upon them in the first place?
• Seems like a ridiculous, arrogant standard for a 23-year-old to keep.
• Where is this education?? Where can I become relieved of this heaviness and learn how to manage this monumental burden?

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I am a problem solver in my blood>

I am a confidence seeker even in this mud>

Who can help me remove this sheath over my eyes? Who can share their dialect of dream language with me? Become kin on this great shore of uncertainty?

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This burden of a dreamer is immense.

I know someone else is further along this journey and can share some insights on how to relieve this stress, the stress of always having more to say…