When I was an infant, I frequently woke up from my night's sleep in the middle of the night. Often I woke up from a nightmare. Terrified, I would run into my parents' room to ask if I could get in bed with them for comfort. I was told that "it was only a dream," and I should go back to bed. I took this response as meaning that I was "a bad boy," and this only added to my nightly terror.
Now, decades later, I have started to relive my infantile periods of sheer terror. I have tried to reform my unconscious mind and get rid of those hours of terror. But that feeling of fear has haunted my days. It's been nerve-wracking and left me shaking.
Last night just before going to sleep, I looked into my hand mirror and told the face in the mirror, "I love you, and I ... Log in or subscribe to continue reading.
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