Nightmares. Mere inflections of reality, or so they feel when a beautiful dream turns against us. A dream can become an alternate universe where events unfold without permission. It blends with fear until you scream for help, but nobody seems to hear you. There is nothing to do but wait for that dagger, that steep fall, that sudden jolt to bring you back to waking life.
Nightmares and the Feeling of Losing Control
The funny thing about nightmares is that they always seem to be lurking in the corner of a beautiful dream, waiting for their turn to alter your thoughts. With a sword of fear, they lance you the moment they see you. Or, worse, when you see them.
We lose control. Even the boldest, bravest soldier can feel helpless inside a frightening dream. The mighty fall; the puissant crumble; the overpowering succumb. In that moment, nothing seems to beat the nightmare except the hope of making it out. That is the feeling I remember, rather than a rule about what a sleeper can or cannot control.
Dad’s Bad Dream in Jaisalmer
One such afternoon remains clear as crystal: my father let out a scream, shaken by a nightmare, while we were living in Jaisalmer. Sandstorms were part of the scenery I associated with the city. Perhaps that landscape had found its way into his dream. I could only guess.
I was a child then, buried in my favourite books. Dad had dozed off after a heavy lunch, and I sat next to him as he snored on the bed. Suddenly, he shouted. When I looked up, he was wide awake, escaping from whatever had startled him in his sleep.
I asked:
“What’s the matter Dad?”
He said it was just a dream. A bad dream. So I asked:
“What was it about?”
He said it might scare me and that I should not cling to it. But I was an adamant child. I beseeched him until he gave in. He told me only a part, which did not sound especially scary on its own. Then again, a child’s imagination can make almost anything feel real.
I have imagined and re-imagined his account so many times that it has lodged itself in my memory. Funny how I never forget anything! Yet this is his dream as I remember hearing it, not a scene I witnessed myself. The retelling and my own picture of it have long lived side by side.
Inside the Dream: A Dust Devil at the Door
Dad said he was in his room when the door burst open and a squall zoomed in. A dark, misty whirlwind tore the curtains down and rampaged towards us. In the dream, my elder brother and I started screaming at the top of our voices:
“Papa! Papa!”
Our father stood there, surprised by the commotion threatening his family. Instinctively, he sprang up to face the vortex so that it would not hurt us. A trickle of fear tumbled down his forehead at the oddity of the thing.
The dust devil seemed unstoppable as it closed in. As it reached him, Dad punched it with all his might. To his surprise, it turned to dust and fell right there. That might have been the very moment he let out the shriek that brought him back from his nightmare.
Something, huh!
When my little head pondered why a dream would show him something like that, my father wrote me off with:
“It was just a dream.”
He also said he had been resting his hand on his chest and connected that position with the bad dream. That was his explanation, and it belongs to the memory of our conversation. It does not establish a general trigger for nightmares.
Reflecting on Nightmares and Their Meaning
Dreams do not seem to have an agenda. They depict the most bizarre incidents. If only we had a surefire way to uncover the purpose of every dream, things would be less hazy. Instead, a remembered image can stay with us long after the explanation has slipped away.
Sometimes a scene in waking life brings back a dream symbol with a feeling of déjà vu. For me, that resemblance is an invitation to remember, not proof that a dream predicted anything. Other images disappear like weak memories. Dad’s dust devil stayed. So did the picture of him standing between his children and something he could not understand.
For another entry in this dream book, read my third lucid dream, where strange machinery replaced the whirlwind. The settings differ, but the attempt to make sense of an unsettling experience connects them.
A Note Beyond This Dream Book
This is a family recollection, not a diagnosis or a guide to interpreting symptoms. The NHS guidance on nightmares and night terrors explains that the two are different. It also recommends speaking to a GP if regular nightmares affect sleep and everyday life. A remembered story cannot tell us exactly what happened medically during one afternoon’s sleep.
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