―Rajneesh
All these night terrors I’ve been having drove me to consult with my friend, Nat Sawyer, who’s a psychologist.
He suggested I practice lucid dreaming to take control of whatever dreams come when I’m asleep.
It seemed like a good idea, but when I began the process, it made me aware not only of my dreams but the fact that I had been editing painful memories involving my relationship with Emma.
It turns out what I considered night terrors were actually true memories of my painful past that I rerpressed and were now coming to the surface while I slept.
In striving to make things better, I made them worse and was now having to deal with the fallout.
I decided the best way to deal with this anxiety was to go for a hike. My house is located near a nature trail so it makes it easy for me to squeeze in a walk or a jog anytime I feel stressed and today was the perfect time.
I've been oppressed by these night terrors long enough and now I’m worried about Sofia coming back into my life, so a hike through snowy woods is just what I need to take my mind off my anxiety.
After a brief mild spell, the temperature has plunged into the freezing range and an overnight Alberta Clipper has left about a foot of snow on the paths. It'll be like slogging through sand but the exertion will do wonders for my angst.
So, I change into my winter hiking gear and venture out into the icy wind.
The path is more clogged with snow than I figured and I have to forego my plan to jog and hike instead—actually, it's more like plodding along and snowshoes or cross country skis would help if I had them and knew how to use them.
I'm muttering to myself while facing into a wind that's blowing ice pellets off the trees that sting like tiny grains of sand. And then I hear it, a pathetic, little mew, coming from under a pine bough.
I stoop down and spot a black and white tuxedo cat shivering from the cold.
I reach out and scoop him up and he snuggles into my arms. Since the wind is in my face, I turn back towards home and yes, I open my parka and tuck him inside to try to get him warm.
Back in my front room I make a nest from a blanket and set him down close to the fire. He's purring so loudly, it almost breaks my heart.
Within minutes he's fast asleep and I sit watching him for an hour until he finally wakes up. I give him some leftover chicken and fresh water and after he's finished he's on my lap. I'm feeling protective towards him as if he were a lost child.
Maybe I’m projectinhg my own fears.
I'm surprised by the almost paternal instincts I didn't think I had and I want to adopt him although I've never owned a cat. But it seems he already owns me and I'm scared because he must belong to someone and they'll want to have him back.
I phone Nat because he's a psychologist and I haven't a clue what to do.
"A cat eh? You need to check with the SPCA if he's micro-chipped or if anyone's reported him missing."
My afternoon suddenly is planned out for me. I don't have a pet carrier, so I put him in a cardboard box, but on the drive to the animal shelter, he gets out and sits beside me, purring and enjoying the ride.
The girl at the shelter seems bemused—probably because I'm like a helicopter parent, asking a million questions.
"He's not micro-chipped and nobody's reported him missing, yet—you should really wait two weeks before getting too attached to him."
The cat nuzzles his face into mine. "Um, probably too late for that," I sigh.
She hands me a tote bag she's prepared for met—litter pan, litter, kibble and a few cans of wet food. "Try him on this food and see what he likes."
"He likes chicken," I tell her.
She swaps out a few items and hands the tote back. "How long have you had him?"
"Two hours and fifteen minutes," I whisper.
She nods. "Don't worry, he's probably a stray. Check back every few days, but I think he's adopted you."
I nod and she pats my arm. "I think he's found a good home."
I drive home with the cat sitting beside me, purring away merrily and looking quite content.
As soon as we get in, he heads for his bed by the fire and I put on a fresh log and I watch till he falls asleep.
The day that started out so angst-filled, has settled down into a drowsy night. Snow is falling again outside the window, patterning itself against the pane.
The tiny life I rescued from the nature trail is contentedly now fast asleep.
There's a feeling stirring inside me that I'm not even sure what it means, but for the first time in a long time, I somehow feel complete.
Is this a yearning for family?
I sit by the fire with a coffee wondering about the changes happening inside me.