Because dreams are dreams, and progress is progress

Bad dream last night. First one in absolutely ages, so it kinda took me by surprise.

The sensation of being unable to control my limbs, unable to escape, unable to fight back... yeah, that's still about as terrifying as you might expect. The feeling of being unsafe, vulnerable to attack, isolated from help... yeah, that still had me sweating and shaking in the dark at 3am.

But, in the dream, I tried to fight. And the more I tried, the more I found I could. The angrier I got. The more determined to get away. And I knew where my safe places were. I knew how to escape.

And when I woke up, instead of giving in to the panic attack, I drank a glass of water, found headphones and put on a music album, and let myself go back to sleep.

Because dreams are just dreams, and they can't hurt me.