The Repetitive Nature of Traumatic Dreams and The Slaying of The Dragon

I will often remember these dreams, which is perhaps why the locations repeat themselves. Or perhaps it is the other way around, and the consistency of the setting is what prompts my unconscious mind to file it away as essential information. 

The first time I noticed a dream like this was when I was a child. I would be plagued by an image of a lake of fire, a small obsidian island surrounded by lava and smoke. It was inside a cave of some kind, and the only way to the bridge, a small bridge of dark stone, was guarded by mythical creatures. Typically these would be cyclopses or ogres, my mortal enemies from my days of playing games such as RuneScape or Dragon's Dogma, but occasionally the bridge would be guarded by a dragon. 

This dragon was a large and beautiful creature, with scales that reflected the hellish environment in a way that was practically luminescent. It had piercing eyes that could hypnotize any young knight with any (literal) dream of conquering the creature. When the dragon was not there, the dream would end in my fragile form being tossed into the fire by the brutes, often as I watched in third person, helpless. 

When the dragon was there, however, the dreams were different. I was inside of my body, a strange sensation in this setting. I felt strong and in control, something quite foreign to a young Guy that had been raised to be an obedient member of his church. The dragon would circle me as I attempted to cross the bridge, not flying but crawling across the stones as if it were a large cat, eyeing me with a curious look. "Haven't we been here before," it seemed to say, "Don't you remember what happened last time?"

The dreams would always end when I reached the island. There was nothing there, only the rocky shore, littered in shards of volcanic glass. I would explore my surroundings, warily eyeing the dragon. When I realized there was nothing for me here, no treasure or princess or glory, the dragon would wrap around me as if it were a serpent and I was nothing more than a lowly rodent. It would squeeze me until the precious life left my clumsy and weak body, and I would awaken, breathless and terrified. This dream would happen every few weeks, with roughly one out of every dozen being the variant that ended with my helpless struggle against that awe inspiring beast.

At the same time, I was noticing how different I was from those around me. My interests were strange, and I didn't fit in with those at the same stage of development as myself. I felt isolated, not only socially, but emotionally. I was frustrated by my ineptness and I often had fits of rage, often pointing my outbursts at my body. It was a dark time, and I genuinely believe that I am only here today because of what happened in this repetitive dream during the height of my destruction.

The dream began as normal. I was on the bridge, in of my eyes. I knew even before I opened them that the dragon was there, but I felt different. As I continued on the bridge, the dragon lagged behind me, apprehensive. It could also feel the shift. I had a weapon in my hands, a sturdy mace, which I felt my grip tighten on as I continued. Halfway across the bridge, the dragon slithered across my path. It flattened to the ground, observing my action. The expression of curious amusement that typically graced it's face was absent, instead replaced by one of fury and disgust. I felt nothing but contempt for it, as I'm sure it felt for me. We were bitter old warriors and I needed it to be over. 

I don't remember the battle, but I could feel the blood of the beast coating my weapon and body as I trudged the final stretch of the bridge. At the island, typically my final resting place, was a door. It was a plain archway, with an antique door in the center, one not unlike the ones in my childhood home. As I stepped through, I awoke in my bed, calm and with a new zest for life.

I had never felt so clean. My anger at my life and my personality was still there, but I no longer felt bound by it. I began to work through the sources of my frustrations. Although I still have a long way to go, I am no longer the bitter young child I was. I am a man now, a man with a love for myself and my surroundings. That child is still inside of me, however, and I must nurture it. I no longer dream of killing my dragons, but in a way, I do it every time I forgive those that wronged me or consider my feelings before acting. Every time I heal myself, a new weapon is added to my arsenal. 

I haven't dreamed of that lake of fire in a long time, but I will be ready if I see the dragon again. I'm not afraid of it anymore.