COVID-19 Friday Five: Anxiety Dreams

I'm having trouble sleeping. When I do sleep I have anxiety dreams. I have lived with anxiety for a long time and, as I grow to understand it, probably even longer than I first thought. It comes - resulting in panic attacks at its most extreme - and goes (although it never goes completely), and most of the time I try to externalise it and can lessen its harmful effects that way. I know I am not alone and that a lot of people have anxiety (approximately 18% according to a recent survey, although only about a third of those seek professional treatment).

I also know that COVID-19 has led to an understandable increase in anxiety and feelings of helplessness, many of which manifest in dreams.  A research paper published in Scientific American found that 37% of people had 'pandemic dreams', many of them marked by themes of insufficiently completing tasks and being threatened by others. Here's an example of one of mine.

I was in a very quiet (English-looking) pub with a group of Aussie theatre friends. I had taken them there to introduce them to 'my other community' (although I don't know where it was and I didn't recognise any of the other patrons). I was trying to get a round in with the help of another person, but each time we thought we had ordered the correct number of drinks, someone else walked in and we had to get one for them too - it took so long to process the order that some people had finished theirs before we had even sat down, so we thought we had to get them another one. 

By the time I finally sat down at the table I realised I didn't have a pint and, although I really wanted one, I couldn't be bothered to go through all the rigmarole again, and so when my friend noticed I hadn't got a drink, I said it was okay and that I didn't really want one anyway, which I did. Everyone else was talking amongst themselves and laughing at something that I hadn't heard, and no one involved me in the conversation. I knew that there were some people missing whom I really wanted to be there, and that they would have made me feel better if they were around, but as they weren't, I was going to have to deal with it myself. 

I nonchalantly got up to go and look at a picture on the wall, and I realised it was actually a jigsaw puzzle when it all fell apart in front of me. The pieces were tiny, but I thought I had to try and put it all back together before anyone noticed - there was a spare table so I scooped all the tiny pieces on to it and frantically started to reassemble it, although the light in the pub was dimming and I was finding it really hard to see the picture. 

A group of people walked in (some of whom I recognised) and asked if they could use this table because they needed to have their meeting. I tried to stall for time by asking them what their committee was, and regretted it instantly when they told me they were the Committee Against Colour-and-Gender-Blind Casting (CACAGBC). The rest of the pub fell silent and all I was afraid it was all going to kick off and somehow it would all be my fault... and they'd notice I'd wrecked their puzzle picture. 

I woke up sweating in fear and gasping for breath. It took a while to calm down and convince myself that I hadn't broken or destroyed anything, from inanimate objects (such as the jigsaw puzzle) to friendships (particularly among my theatre community). I am still tired, emotional and a little bit nauseous. I know this may sound ridiculous to some, but these things affect me on a daily basis. While I cannot stop these dreams, I can identify what is bothering me in them - thoughts and feelings which I try to repress in my waking hours.

5 Anxiety Issues in My Dreams:

• Feeling responsible for things which are beyond my control
• Stress of trying to plan something within shifting and uncertain parameters
• Feelings of isolation - trying to reconcile different aspects of my life
• Feeling overlooked and excluded but trying to pretend it doesn't bother me
• Wanting to 'return' to a time and place but not knowing when I will be able to get there and afraid that things will have changed so much that I won't recognise anyone when I do

COVID-19: Dreaming is Free

Stories are my saviour. Whether told on the page, stage, screen (large or small) or radio, they inspire, enlighten, challenge and comfort me. It may not be the best idea to be watching World on Fire at the moment, but last night we watched the final episode of the first series. The series is set during the Second World War in France, Germany, Poland and the U.K. and it follows several families and characters from 1939-1940. It's tough to watch at times (and there seem to be a few anachronisms in terms of speech and accent), but it is well acted and sufficiently tense and dramatic to keep me involved.

I am tempted to see parallels with our current global situation, and slightly reassured that I 'mustn't grumble: things could be worse'. No one is shooting at me, or trying to bomb me, or threatening to hang me because I am the 'wrong' race, colour, ability, sexuality or political persuasion. Not yet, anyway: I don't live in America - cheap jibe, sorry. But there is a preponderance of panic buying, propaganda, misinformation, uncertainty and an extremely rapid pace of change. Life (and death) goes on in altered circumstances; people still get born; get married; fall in love; fall out... not necessarily in that order. And like World War II, those in the midst of it have no idea of when and how it will finish. Trust me, I've just seen the last episode of World on Fire and there is no satisfying sense of closure - sorry if that's a spoiler.

Our COVID-19 situation also sees leadership, and the lack thereof. Boris has been chewing his way through speeches by Churchill and Plato and now emerges blinking from his shabby chrysalis as a somewhat unlikely statesman; Prince-Hal-like, the foppish fool has sobered up to face the future. Jacinda is calm and firm; just and fair, dealing with a hideous situation with sense and sensibility. Scotty is floundering about like a lumpfish in shallow water but out of its depth. Make some decisions; be bold and resolute; lead!

In Australia we are told that schools are 'pupil-free' but they remain open and no one is turned away. We are told that only essential services should remain open - yet many businesses have not been made to close, so people are still heading to the office, hoping for a gold star from the boss. We are not allowed to gather so theatres, cinemas, gyms, pubs, clubs and restaurants have been closed. Art galleries and museums are choosing to close. There is no statewide ban on beaches, although people are 'advised not go' - yep, we've all seen how well people are following those guidelines.

Hairdressers and beauty salons are still open - it's important to look good in your coffin, apparently - but no one will be there to see you. Churches and places of worship are closed except to very small gatherings; weddings and funerals are not allowed indoors except in small groups observing the one person per four square metres rule. I am a sporadic church-goer; my places of worship are hills and woods and the great outdoors. I worship a mixture of myth and religion - I would like to believe in a golden thread that we can follow out of this darkness into the light once more.

I do usually go to church at Christmas, Easter, and Whitsun, however: they are the significant touchstones of my faith. This year, I will not be attending live services, but I will be commemorating the occasion in my way. Many people are suggesting ways to occupy their time in isolation (although Australia has not moved to this yet, and people are still congregating in entirely unnecessary groups); one of my pass-times is cross-stitch. I have been stitching little Easter designs of baskets and bunny rabbits, surrounded by eggs and flowers.

All this is probably what informed my dream last night in which I was trying to stitch together a Polish fabric that had been destroyed by Germany. It was my duty to reconnect the border by unpicking the existing stitches and working them back into an unbroken line with a golden thread. I believe our dreams are important - not in a Freudian way, but because they are a coping mechanism in which the brain shuffles events and tries to impart some meaning. My bible is the bard, and I find words to fit every event in his plays and poetry. And so it is with dreams, which come to us in sleep:

"Sleep that knits up the ravell'd sleave of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast."

I know I have employed that quote before (it's one of my favourite, from one of my favourite plays), so here's something else that's been on my mind.

Walking Dreams

In dreams I can walk on my hands.
Not a useful talent,
But a good party trick:
It entertains, and people smile.

I launch forward through my arms;
Lurching from side to side:
Chest pushed out; neck stretched;
Legs bent over like a question mark

Asking when will I fall,
And if it’s before I wake,
Will I die in my sleep?
Is that entertainment?

Quick Quintet: Dream Destinations

On the subject of dreams (which we were) and holidays (which we have been), here are some of my dream destinations. They're all places I'd really like to go on holiday but cost a fair bit; maybe if I won a medium-sized lottery I'd blow the cash on one of these. Mind you, I suppose I would have to start buying the tickets first.

5 Dream Destinations:

1. Safari in Africa: It's all about the wildlife - lions; leopards; cheetahs; zebras; elephants; antelope; wildebeest and giraffes (crouching or otherwise). Whether in Botswana, Kenya, Zambia, or any other realtively stable African country, I would love to experience the stunning scenery and the play of light and colour. Those lodges look like my idea of heaven, and are way out of my price range.
2. Antarctica: The same but different, i.e. It's all about the wildlife, scenery and light and colour. And it would have to be seen from a (warm) cruise ship, which is way beyond my budget. My camera would get such a hammering!
3. South America: yup, the entire continent. I mean, it's got everything: ancient history (Incas and Machu Pichu), colonial cities, vibrant modern cities, deserts, mountains, glaciers, beaches, rainforests, waterfalls, wildlife (imagine visiting the Galapagos Islands!) and wine - and my life will not be complete until I have learned to tango in Buenos Aires. I know, it will take at least a year (and that's just learning to dance...)
4. Vienna: Speaking of dancing, I would love to sweep down a staircase in Vienna and glide across the ballroom in a fabulous dress dancing a waltz. The opera; the music; the architecture; the palaces; the Lippizan stallions; the cake... And I would probably take a side-trip to Budapest to see my bridge (the same design as the one in Marlow)
5. Uluru: specifically as a highlight of a trip on the Ghan, the train that travels from Adelaide through Alice Springs to Darwin. And I don't care how naff it is; I want to dine by candle and starlight at those tables with white linen tablecloths and know I don't have to do the washing up or the laundry!