EMDR has knock on effects. Sometimes there are intrusive memories during the week between sessions – things you covered in the session, things you did not.

This week there have been dreams.

I do not usually remember dreams. But as EMDR has progressed my sleep has been increasingly disturbed. I wake most nights. I wake at the same time most nights. It may be related to the trauma. It may not. This may become apparent with more sessions.

But this week there have been dreams. Vivid dreams. Unrelated to the memories in session. But leading me to wake, heart racing, breath shallow. And leaving me awake. Sometimes for ten minutes, sometimes for an hour, longer.

My therapist has asked me to note changes. I have noted the dreams.




There is a wooden box filled with blank tiles and a notebook. Each page of the notebook is written on, fragments. The writing is faded. I know this although I do not have them. I have left them in a library.

There is an alarm. It jars, but is silent. I feel it. I feel the bell.

I need back in.

I am held back. By something. No person though. No one. There is no one around me.

The alarm stops. I am allowed into the library. I cannot tell what is on the shelves. They are higher than me. I am running surrounded by books, looking for the box, looking for the notebook. They are not there.

They are not there.

I am anxious, hunt for them, pulling books from the shelves.

They are not there.

I am guided to a place to find them through an archway. It is light, bright, clinical. Hospital clean. I cannot tell where the light is coming from. As I walk through the arch the notepad remains out of reach. The tiles are spilled on the floor. I try to pick them up, drop them.

The lights stay on. My breathing shallows, speeds.




About loveandgarbage

I watch the telly and read when not doing law stuff and plugging my decade and a half old unwatched Edinburgh fringe show.
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2 Responses to Dream

  1. Chris says:

    Once again, thank you so much for sharing your experiences.

    Much love


  2. Pingback: Some personal posts | Love and Garbage – some commonplace musings

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