Old me would laugh in disbelief at my latest dream

It’s an odd thought experiment, but I try to picture the scene.

Old Me is shown the space which Now Me inhabits. What my day-to-day reality is like. What I’m doing with my life. How I feel.

Now Me has made it to the other side of my big life storm.  Of course, the journey of life is never over until it’s over... Although I’ve cleared much of the storm debris away, there’s still some of it hanging around – I suppose that’s to be expected when the emotionally abusive storm lasted for forty years…

But it’s safe to say that Now Me exists in a profoundly different reality to Old Me.  

Nothing illustrates this more clearly than a surprising dream I had earlier this year.

Odd things happen in my dreams a lot of the time. Stuff that really makes no sense. Storylines that I’d be loath to admit to in the cold light of day. Often, I’ll try to grab hold of the rapidly receding remnants of a dream as I wake, only to feel it inexorably slipping through my fingers until there’s nothing left.

I’m not sure that my dreams generally hold significant meaning. Often, it feels as if they are my brain’s way of letting off steam when I’m not consciously at the helm, sifting through old, dusty filing cabinets and combining bits of my memories and stories I’ve heard into totally outlandish and bizarre creations.

Sometimes, the results are rather humorous. Like the recent one where I joined a club which involved wearing elegant, flowing attire. The people in this club seemed to derive great pleasure from bowing when they met each other, and uttering the compliment, “Nice robes!” Fun, but I couldn’t help but think as I woke up that the novelty would wear off rather quickly…!

The first time I remember having a truly profound dream was after Mummy died over ten years ago. It was like a scene from the movies. My mother was on a train which was pulling out of the station. I was running along the platform, desperately trying to jump onto the train. But it was gathering speed as it departed and, hard as I tried, I was left breathless and disconsolate at the end of the platform as the train sped away.

Not hard to spot the analogy there… I woke up sobbing heavy tears. Not exactly a pleasant experience, but one which helped me to come to terms with that obvious and yet totally impossible-to-grasp reality that we’ll never see someone we love again in this lifetime…

I don’t remember much in the way of profound dreaming for years after that. But I have to hand it to my brain – in the last couple of years, it really has gone into overdrive, using dreams imaginatively and unexpectedly to mull over some of my thornier storm debris.

After my estrangement from my father, I was so scared that he was going to turn up unannounced on the doorstep to have it out with me. And then, after he died, I was still petrified that I was going to turn around and find him standing there. Of course, rational me knew that wasn’t possible, but that didn’t stop the little girl in me feeling deeply unsettled.

You see, fundamentally I was programmed to be scared of my father. It was incredible that I found the strength to stand up to him and follow through on the estrangement when it was the only viable option left open to me.

But deep-seated fear like that doesn’t disappear overnight.

My father would sometimes turn up in my dreams. Not really a welcome guest, as you can imagine. I would generally wake up unnerved and upset after these encounters.

But there’s been a discernible shift as time has gone on, and nothing illustrates this better than the dream I had a few weeks ago.

My father had come to my house unannounced. I had set up Damsel Not In Distress but hadn’t told him. Nice little plot twist there – well done, brain… So, hilariously, during much of the dream I was scrabbling around the house to remove all trace of the business, so that he wouldn’t find out about it!

But it was what happened at the end of the dream which really caught my attention.

I stood across the room from him, squarely holding my ground and assertively telling him about all the things he had done to hurt me over the years. It was my turn to have the floor, and I seriously ran with it. He didn’t get to utter a word.

Which is quite a turn up for the books. My father excelled at dominating a conversation, at steering it in the direction he wanted it to go. He generally had the final say.

But not in this dream!

In this dream, I was able to stand up to him and tell him exactly what the problem was. Without fear. Without shame. This was my truth, and I told it.

I woke up deeply moved by what I had just experienced. After all, dreams like that are a bit like a simulator – allowing us to live through an event which can't or won't happen in real life. And the fascinating thing is, if he were to walk into the room now, I CAN imagine doing just that – and, even if he scoffed at what I said and denied it all, I would stand my ground.

So, back to Old Me looking on at Now Me. Old Me couldn’t have conceived of a dream like that. Fundamentally, Old Me wouldn’t be able to believe that I could have the self-belief and strength to challenge my father in that way.

And yet here we are. Thank goodness. 

And how have I got here?

By trusting the process. By taking each step in front of me faithfully, even if I couldn’t see the whole path mapped out ahead of me.

And by faithfully deploying and expanding my toolkit of wellbeing techniques which I have tailored to my needs. Putting together this toolkit taught me how to tend to my mind, my emotions, my body and my spirit as I undertook this journey through the storm. It also showed me how to honour and look after all the different parts of me.

Over the years, I figured out how to navigate my storm, all while I kept showing up and delivering as a leader at work. But it wasn’t easy and there are things I wish I had known earlier on. So, I’ve put together a video outlining my five key tips for assembling your Leader’s Storm Toolkit. You can get instant free access here.