Last year I was admitted to a residential crisis center. I’d been struggling for a while but in the weeks previous, I’d started suffering with suicidal ideation and knew I needed help. It was the first time I’d ever stayed anywhere like this. I was really nervous when I arrived, I didn’t know what to expect, but by the end of the week I didn’t want to leave.
We had 2 or 3 sessions each day, covering topics like anxiety, relaxation, and even art therapy. One of the sessions that changed my life was “Nightmare Rescripting”.
Recurring nightmares are awful and lead to a vicious cycle of sleeplessness. The nightmares jolt you awake, and then you can’t get back to sleep because you’re scared of having the nightmare.
Last year I was suffering from a particularly bad one.
I’m driving my car down the motorway. My rapist James* is driving behind me, chasing me. He keeps getting too close to my car and I’m scared we’re going to crash. Eventually he rams me off the road. I’m trapped in my car and I can’t get out. James opens the driver side door and begins grabbing at my crotch and breasts.
And then I would wake up, sweating and crying.
The lady running my session asked me to relay this dream to her. She told me that when you have recurring nightmares you end up consciously thinking about it a lot during the day and then when you fall asleep your subconscious tries to process it. And this happens over and over.
And then she told me about rescripting. It’s a little similar to how to deal with a boggart in Harry Potter. If you’re not familiar with Harry Potter I’m not sure if we can be friends, but I’ll explain it for you.
The idea is to make your nightmare ridiculous and funny. And filled with things you like. The idea is that you can go over this funny, stupid version of the dream during the day and try and trick your subconscious into pulling these new details into your nightmare.
My rescripted dream went something like this:
I’m driving my car down the motorway. My favourite Katy Perry song is playing on the radio.
James is driving behind me in a tiny clown car that he doesn’t fit into. His knees are sticking out of the windows.
A brown horse with a white star between his eyes comes between our cars. I can see him in my rear view mirror.
I pull over and the horse comes over to me. James’ drives close by and the horse rears up on his hind legs. James’ is scared away.
The horse comes over to me and puts his head over my shoulder so I can hug his neck.
The end.
Oh and the horse talks. Like Morgan Freeman.
I read it over and over smiling at little different details each time. I never dreamt about Morgan the horse. But I didn’t have the nightmare for much longer after that.
*In order to maintain their anonymity some names and identifying details have been changed.