Breathless in the Woods
I stop breathing in my sleep. It has been happening on and off for about a year but lately it’s every night. When I first noticed it, I would be dreaming that I was swimming in a pool and just had to hold my breath a little longer to reach the other side. Then the dreams moved me into the ocean where I would be at great depths refusing to breathe because I wanted to keep swimming. But the dreams are different now. I dream I must swim through a cave to find freedom except the cave narrows until I am trapped inside. Or I’m no longer swimming, the water is gone and I find myself clawing my way through the earth to reach the surface and breathe fresh air once again.
Sometimes I wake up gasping for air, realizing that I’ve done this to myself once again. Most times I can recognize what is happening within the dream. I can usually find my breath within a few beats without coming completely awake and can sleep fairly soundly the rest of the night.
We have come to the woods once again to recover, restore and find solace. Nature, that ever healing force, in this place fills us with spectacular light bouncing off of delicate leaves in transition. But once again, or maybe still, Nature Herself needs healing. Surrounded by wildfires, we find ourselves in banks of smoke blotting out the carved faces of the Sierra Nevadas.
Last night I dreamt I was digging a tunnel into the earth and losing air as I went. The tunnel was collapsing behind me and though I thought I was climbing toward the surface, I was actually going deeper into the ground. I knew I needed air but couldn’t wake up. When I did I was met with the smell of the forest burning around me. Nature and I gasped together and tried to count our way back to calm. One…two…three…four…
Tonight, when I lay myself down exhausted once again (and yet still), I will remember that Nature Herself, no matter the panic, continues. I will remember that sleep heals as it teaches. I will remember that I too am Nature. And I will remember to breathe.