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HIGHER ANXIETY

By: Justin P. McCarthy   |   February 28, 2022

 

The man in front of me shifts his weight from foot to foot, shakes his head disapprovingly, starts to cough. Keeps coughing. Backing away, I cock my head: Is it a throat-clearing cough? Untreated GERD? An allergic tickle? Or is it the grim projectile herald of a COVID-19 infection? Is that why he’s here?

 

Engrossed in her phone, maybe mistaking the noise ahead for progress in the line, the woman behind me walks forward, head still down, her shoe stopping when it hits mine. I stiffen and turn. She looks up from her screen and we lock fearful eyes above our masks. “Sorry!” she gasps, and moves away. Coughing Man has just been called to one of the two windows, and a tired voice beckons, “Next,” from the other.

 

“Birthday,” the voice scrapes through barely parted lips. My mind fills with birthdays: the kids’, my wife, Katie’s, my dad’s, my siblings’. Everyone but my mom’s. Wait. She’s five years younger than my dad, who is a few years younger than the Golden Gate Bridge. And I know it’s June, but is she the 18th, or is that my sister, Regina? Eventually, I fumble it out, drawing a look of unconcealed contempt from the eyes above the voice.

 

“And which medications are you picking up?” My mind empties. It’s an absolute, pristine emptiness–enough to drive the most enlightened rōshi to serene, silent envy. I try to recall the twenty-odd names of the prescriptions I’ve risked my life waiting in line for: an omakase platter of nonsensical pharmaceutical neologism. Nothing. I reach for my phone, where the drugs are listed in Evernote, but its battery is dead. Space-invading Woman throws me a compassionless glower. Coughing Man, still at the next window, erupts in a paroxysm of throaty hacks.

 

I wake up.

 

In the anxiety dreams of my twenties, I’d be in college, late for a class, unable to remember where the lecture hall was, or sitting at a desk for a test and realizing I hadn’t done any of the reading. In time, these gave way to consulting dreams: I’d be late for a meeting I couldn’t find, or about to leave the office for a vacation, only to get a text letting me know I’d been staffed and would be flying to Tennessee that night, for three months—sorry about your trip to Spain, your fiancée shouldn’t mind too much—you’re in the crucible now!

 

If you’re like 26% of respondents to a 2020 pandemic dream survey, you’ve probably been having more nightmares and anxiety dreams since SARS-CoV-2’s spike proteins attached themselves to our conscious and subconscious minds two years ago. Anxiety dreams are common: I’d have them occasionally as an adult before spring 2020 saw them increase to a few a week, and it feels like way more than 26% of my family and friends have been suffering more of them, too. That doesn’t mean we should put up with them, though, advise Michelle Drerup, PsyD, DBSM and Alexa Kane, PsyD, on the Cleveland Clinic’s website, especially since “frequently having stress or anxiety-ridden dreams is usually a red flag for real life stress and the role it’s playing on your body.”

 

In a month centered around a holiday celebrating the love in our lives, it’s important to take time to love ourselves, too. This month, I’ll be working on my anxiety dreams. Here are a few tips from Drerup and Kane (more detail in their linked article above):

 

Spend time winding down before bed, so your mind is calm when you go to sleep.

Schedule “worry time,” so you have an acceptable window to stress out, away from sleep.

Think of your bedroom as a place just for sleep, sex and pleasant activities.

Practice relaxation techniques, like meditation and breathing exercises

It will certainly take time, and you might find different tools which work better for you, but if you’re suffering from anxiety dreams, show yourself a little love and put the work in to silence the Coughing Man and Space-invading Woman in your head–there are enough of them outside it.

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