We’ve all had nightmares, right?
The ones that wake you in the middle of the night, but you can’t remember a thing of what you’ve dreamt; or the ones where you feel like you’re falling, and you wake up just before you face plant. Regardless, nightmare suck.
Our dreams are uncontrollable, un-predictable, and usually stem from a seeded sentiment that perhaps hasn’t been recognized yet. For me, fear tends to affect my dreams in a very big way. New job coming up, I’m afraid to over-sleep; getting on a boat, fear that it will sink; going somewhere I’ve never been; fear.of.everything.
Feelings of discomfort and all around weirdness sit with me as I write this out, but thinking it over yesterday, I realized that I am not alone in this and should share my thoughts. I love traveling and everything about it, including the unknown. It’s exciting to journey into a new place and embrace its smells, temperature, and interesting flavors. The same unknown I look forward to, I also fear endlessly. I’ve been having daymares about my trip to Thailand. A daymare is a word I made up; it’s a nightmare that I’m experiencing during the day, while I’m awake. My mind has a lovely tendency to day dream, and after a while, the dreams turn into something not so pleasant.
My nightmare was this: While traveling in Thailand I would be kidnapped, beaten, and held captive for days. Then, I would find a way to escape by stabbing the guard with a knife, that I somehow found and kept hidden. I would run out and far into the streets shouting for help and begging strangers to take me to the American Embassy. Someone does end up helping me and upon arriving, I began to contemplate if I would fly straight home or if I would continue my travels. Then, I woke up.
I don’t really ever share my dreams with anyone, but it’s to draw out this question that came to me. If something happens to you, which it very well could, what would you do, what would you truly do? If I were to fly back home, I would be grateful for my family to nurture and love upon me, but angry that I ended my journey because an evil soul decided to change my fate, drowning me in an ocean of fear and timidity.
Or what if I were to stay? Go through whatever and however the proceedings go in a foreign country, or maybe not at all. Heal my wounds day by day and put on a mask of courage to continue my travels. Prove to myself that somehow, by me continuing on, it shows that they didn’t take away from me what was most important, my dream and passion to explore and learn.
I couldn’t decide which outcome would be the right one, because I couldn’t decide which was the best one. Neither is good, or bad; and the fear is still there. I am not saying that bad things can happen when you travel, bad things can happen (and are more likely to happen) within 1 mile of your home. But anything is possible, anywhere. I won’t let the fear stop me as it tries to cripple me. I know once I land in Asia, peace and excitement will inundate me, as it usually does when I arrive somewhere for the first time. If there could be a way to disassociate the fear, life would be grand, wouldn’t it? Or, would we then all become reckless and unappreciative of the fragility of life?
Not every blog post will be champagne kisses and caviar dreams on top of cupcakes, and I’m ok with that. Please don’t think (family that’s reading this) that there is a greater risk to me than there would be in my own backyard. We shouldn’t ignore the bad, but certainly won’t allow it to overtake us. If everyone were to do a little bit of extra good, every day, maybe some day, we would have more good things to talk about than bad. I like to think of it as, which cup do you choose to drink from? The one that is bordering empty, filled with bits of dirt and water? Or the one that is half way full, ready to quench your thirst.