Just yesterday, I had a very distressing dream. I woke up groggy and saw that I had half an hour or so before my next alarm went off. I lazily decided to go back to sleep, despite wanting to go to school early and follow yesterday’s routine of essay writing in the morning. In that extra thirty minutes of sleep, my nightmare involved the stressful work of college essay writing as well as a horrible mood fit in which I was yelling and destroying everything in my path. I awoke a little disoriented and very upset, especially because I slept longer than I intended; I never had that second alarm.. I couldn’t get myself out of the house early to go the library, even more so because I knew I wasn’t going to be able to properly write after that dream. The rest of the day followed the morning closely. I went to class, and planned on staying at the library after, as I had done the day before, which made me superbly productive. But the typhoon was approaching, and I saw rain. I decided to head to my relative’s early. They wouldn’t be home yet, so I could use their TV. I thought to myself, I’ll watch that show that always makes me feel better. I walked and talked with a classmate on the way to the MRT, and that was pleasant. I got to the relative’s house, and proceeded to scroll on Instagram for an hour and a half. While my feed was political, it wasn’t horrible. It was young people speaking up confidently and eloquently, Mamdani’s new successes, French protests, and El-Sayed responding to questions confidently and intellectually. None of it was really bad; as a matter of fact, I was inspired by all of it. But that was exactly the issue. Suddenly, the inspiration of these incredible people was so overwhelming it felt like pressure to become those people I was inspired by. It actually made me anxious and upset. Just like my dream, I had gotten caught in a reality that didn’t exist for me. This incapacitating inspiration has been a long-standing issue for me. I will likely bring it up again. But I had the brain power to blame it on my dream. After all, every day that I really have a bad dream, it ends up being a pretty bad day. I deleted Instagram and went to bed stressed and confused as to what I wanted. I felt anxious and insecure and unstable.
When I woke up today, I felt groggy and rather unsteady as well. It’s hard to eliminate such a strong and existential emotion. But I called a friend first thing. And as I called that friend, I recalled my new dream. A good dream, of socializing positively and getting lots of positive attention from various places. It was a dream of confidence and excitement. I feel so much better today than yesterday. I stuck to my plan. I didn’t snooze my alarm, I came straight home after school and talked to my friend again, and napped. All according to plan. I even went grocery shopping as I had hoped. I was struggling with identity, hope, and a feeling of despair just the day before. Today I was lucky enough that it got a lot better, and right now, I’m feeling good and looking forward to tomorrow. We have the day off of school for the typhoon; I’m going to wake up early, make breakfast, get on my meeting, take a nap, do laundry, and make some cool crafts. And I know I can do all of it, but I don’t feel any pressure if I don’t do all my laundry or finish all my crafts or eat the healthiest food. Today is an opportunity and tomorrow is another. I always feel better when I’m not stressed out and judging myself for my performance.
I don’t love how much my dreams control my mood, because it makes my mood a little less controllable. But I can control how much I stick to my plans. I hope tomorrow is just as good as I expect.