Dream Techniques For Childhood Nightmares

Dream Techniques For Childhood Nightmares

The Untimely Demise of the Shadowman

The shadow man was my daughter's monster. He would stand over her bed or near her closet. She would be brave but he would draw nearer as she got sleepier. He was waiting for her to sleep so he could take her away from her family and everyone she loved. 

I worried about sharing what some have called my gift to my daughter. My ability to become cognitively aware in my dreams has had its drawbacks. One cannot help but become affected by this experience. Highly educated thinkers have published entire books attributing outlandish theories to this quite normal process of the human mind. But my daughter's inner demons were based on very real emotional trauma. She needed my help when she was facing foster care. Now she needed my help again addressing the nightmares that resulted from her difficult childhood. 

Reaching the REM state while holding on to your cognitive awareness is much like navigating a small boat through a tropical storm at sea. You are constantly blown off course. At times, you are overwhelmed by the constantly shift waves and the powerful currents of the mind. You can easily experience this turbulent barrier between reality and the subconscious even if you don't believe in the phenomenon of lucid dreaming. Simply lie down, close your eyes and refuse to move. Eventually, sheer terror will force you out. 

I explained these common pitfalls to Claire. I wasn't even sure I could show her how to lucid dream. I pulled a reading chair into her room and positioned a small lamp behind me as to not disturb her sleep. Even if she did not master the process, at least I would be here should the shadow man come. She scooted down in her bed and lay flat on her back as instructed. She was lying perfectly still without moving and without drifting off to sleep for as long as she could. She peered up at me and asked how long would it take. I knew the answer but did not want to spoil the surprise. 

Her first dive lasted 45 minutes before she sprang straight up in her bed gasping and breathing heavily. I checked her pulse and it was steady and strong 90 beats per minute. I knew she had reached the edge of the barrier. I asked her to tell me what she experienced. 

"I began to tingle almost from the start. I kept feeling like I had to move to get comfortable. Then I began to feel my toes go numb and this feeling spread up my entire body. I was cold at first without the covers over me. But you were right. I began to feel hot very quickly. Then I experienced the feeling of being on a roller coaster you described. I tried to hold on but it was getting too scary. I felt like I was being tossed around. When I bailed out I instantly felt frustrated with myself for giving up." 

It was a good first attempt and I felt confident she would easily get accustomed to the turbulent waves that exist near the barrier. I told her that was all for the night and she should get comfortable to sleep. I remained in her room and she was in REM state within 10 minutes of curling up on her side. If I had told her this was part of the training she would have had expectations and not fallen to sleep as easily. Her fingers began to twitch slightly and her breathing deepened. 

This was exciting for me as well. I had never thought to witness someone learning to breach the barrier. It was like watching her learning to swim or riding her bike without training wheels for the first time. When she had startled herself awake earlier she was not really awake. Her mind was still in a state of sleep prep. By waking up for a moment and then rolling over to sleep again she had primed the chemicals so to speak. She would drift through the barrier without effort and then it would simply be a matter of becoming aware of the other side. 

Claire slept for 4 hours. I had returned to my book when she awoke with a hard jerk. I reached over and placed my hand on her shoulder and she peered back at me wide eyed for a moment unsure if she was awake. I smiled at her and said, "The conscious mind is a trickster. It wants to stay in control so it snatches the bed out from under you. "Claire blinked at me still groggy from sleep. Then she furrowed her brow in frustration pounding her fist into the pillow, "Aw Man!" 

Within a few days, Claire was able to overcome her fear of the shadow man. As I suspected, he was a memory rather than a monster. She had not yet reached the ability to become cognitively aware in her dreams. But she had been able to reach over and turn on the lamp I placed by her bed. Her dream room lit up and she saw the face of the shadow man. It was daddy. He had been watching over her while she was going through the most difficult time in her life. She did not dream of the shadow man again and she was saddened by this. "Now that I know the shadow man was daddy I want him to come back to watch over me again." 

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Previously Posted on FullofKnowlege.com

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In Cutting Edge Ideas Follow-Through is Everything

Unfinished Projects and Ideas Are Worse Than None at All

Some people claim to be tormented by their talent. They have all these amazing ideas floating around in their heads with no way of ever getting them off the drawing board. They find themselves with several projects in various stages of completion and become overwhelmed by their own creativity. The logical solution would seem to be to step back and take a breather. Take a break and approach the idea from another angle with a fresh mind. Sleep on it. This is a big mistake. Your mind is never going to settle down and it will not wait for your right time to follow through. You will move on to other projects and soon end up with a mess of partial ideas. 

If this describes you don't be disheartened. You share this burden with great people throughout history such as Albert Einstein, Leonardo da Vinci, and Amadeus Mozart. Albert Einstein's theories on time relativity were accepted by the scientific community even though they were never officially thought out to a conclusion. Leonardo da Vinci had journals of invention ideas from a tank to a helicopter. The journals are priceless but the inventions themselves would have historic. Finally, like all musicians, Mozart had stacks of uncompleted works some of which consisted of only one verse of music. But knowing that you are in good company does not get your partial works into the scientific community, our aerospace engineering programs, and our earphones. Your great ideas can not become reality unless you follow through. 

As Einstein would probably have wished he'd said, (N = F + FT), or Invention equals focus plus follow through. In this formula "N" is synonymous with Necessity and Invention. Before you begin an idea project, first consider how it can be used to benefit you. Don't think of the broad scope of its potential to change the world just yet. Finding a solution that solves your personal needs gives you motivation to finish it. 

Next, is the invention even physically possible or does it requires the tweaking of the universal laws of physics for it to work? Don't laugh, you'd be surprised how many millions of dollars go into the development of cutting edge aircraft designs that although look great on paper can never get off the ground. 

Build upon and incorporate upon what you have into your idea. If you require an exotic material difficult or impossible to obtain, unless you are working at Area 51, you are most likely not going to be able to complete it. This is just good planning. Have everything you need available to ensure you can complete your project before you begin designing it. 

What was the greater invention, the wheel or the Lamborghini? You have a team of millions of collaborators at your fingertips. What have others designed that fits into your project? Always reference the internet for aspects of your design concept that have already been completed. Suffice it to say the person that invented the wheel was not the one that invented the combustion engine. No man is an island and there is no shame in enlisting the ideas of others to see your project to completion. 

In music, you hear the notes in your head but they are just partial. Hear them out before you rush to your instrument. Replay it in your mind over and over again and sing to it. What lyrics are fitting over the music? If the song fades away and you can’t remember it, that's okay. It's not gone and will return with more clarity later. But if the song is infectious and sticks in your head and you are unable to stop humming it then more than likely it will have the same effect on us as well. You are probably composing your next hit single. I never write lyrics without their accompanying music. A lyric without music is poetry and unless you are a published poet, even the most touching of your composition will never be heard by anyone. 

Jules Verne said, "What one man can imagine, other men can make real." Don't let someone else be the one to benefit and profit from your unfinished idea. If it's not possible to complete the idea you have working in your mind then don't start it. Work on what is possible and capable of benefiting you. You have a greater success of profiting as the invention begins to benefit the world. You can then use those profits toward obtaining the things you need to complete more complex works. 

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Beware of Squirrel!

Guard Dogs Have Nothing on Our House Squirrel

I am an avid hunter and I advocate the practice for anyone who needs to supplement their food costs with venison or wild pork. With that said, I do not advocate hunting as a sport for the sake of trophy seeking. My first hunt with my father placed me face to face against a fully grown wild boar with 5 inch tusks. The beast charged me after I failed to get a clean shot. My lesson was to respect these creatures and only take from the land what I needed. There is no need to hunt small prey for sustenance unless you have no deer or wild boar available. I'm sure most trophy hunters traipsing the countryside would reconsider their prey of choice if a squirrel charged them and attacked! 

While hunting for deer one late one afternoon we heard repeated shots in the distance. I grew frustrated at this. We would not see any deer grazing in our field with this idiot emptying his entire box of shells into the trees. My older brother was just as angry and his temper arguably twice as bad as mine. We set out in the direction of the trigger happy hunter in our woods. We drew closer and the shots grew louder. Surely this hunter had not missed his prey so many times. As we drew ever closer, we began to see the evidence of the hunter's motives. 

Along our path lay blood and tiny pink squirrel bodies. The hunter was firing into the nests with a shotgun to dislodge the adult nesting squirrels. Those that did not fall to the ground, the hunter left to suffer and die in the trees. Their young scattered beneath the trees of their assaulted nests. We caught up to the two hunters and politely informed them they were no longer welcomed to hunt on our property. I think I may have broken a knuckle when I shook their hands in farewell. 

As I picked one of the cold pink bodies from the leaves I noticed it was still alive. My brother shook his head. Our father had a strict rule about wild pets. I reminded my brother our father had many strict rules we ignored and placed the baby squirrel in my pocket. We returned home and I hid the infant squirrel in my closet with a heat lamp over its box. 

With an eye dropper of warm milk several times a day my squirrel began to grow and develop a reddish orange coat of fur. It was a fox squirrel, the largest breed of squirrel in our part of the country. They grow to be about 2 foot long not including a 1 foot tail. A healthy fox squirrel can weigh as much as 3 lbs and are highly territorial. It wasn't long before my mother found my hidden stowaway while cleaning my room. She scolded us for having brought the animal into the house and reminded us of our father's rule. At the same time we noticed the squirrel was sleeping soundly in her lap. My brother's plan seemed to be working as expected. By the time our father had arrived home our mother had become completely attached to the young squirrel. The issue was settled long before our father even had a vote. 

Foxy's pet peeve was tugging at his tail. This indignity would result in a reprisal of viciousness on a level only exhibited by pit bulls. He was tolerant of almost any other form of harassment. We quickly learned that Foxy had a daily routine and expected his designated area be unmolested. He was very good at keeping his wooden nest clean and would usually turn in early. A bowl of walnuts was kept on a separate counter in the kitchen and Foxy would usually sit quietly and eat when we ate. After dinner, Foxy would make his rounds sniffing at the windows and doorways before settling on our father's recliner armrest or mother’s headrest as we watched television. 

Visitors were thoroughly vetted before entering the house. Foxy would meet them at the doorway growling and barking loudly. This was no display. If they attempted to enter before Foxy had laid the ground rules they could receive a vicious bite! It typically took about 5 minutes for Foxy to go through is posturing and circling while chattering loudly and hopping with his furry tail fully fuzzed. He would then give the visitor a final once over and walk away. The visitor was now welcomed to enter the house but remained under Foxy's watchful eye. 

Foxy enjoyed his time of daily reflection outside sitting in our large old growth oak. The birds and other squirrels took their leave during these sessions. This respect was also shown by local dogs and cats in the neighborhood. Once Foxy got on the small of the back between the shoulder blades there was nothing the largest dog or cat could do to remove him. He would ride them around the yard with his razor sharp teeth sunk deep into the flesh. 

Foxy remained a member of our household for 2 more years. He began to spend more of his time in the old oak. We would call to him but he would not come. We left a window open during the day and sometimes he would come in for a Walnut. We then saw that Foxy had found a companion in the old oak. She was a beautiful fox herself and surely had never seen such a fine specimen of male Sciurus niger. Foxy had lived well and ate well his entire life and was nearly twice the average size of those of his kin in the wild. Over time, Foxy and his new mate would sit at our window and eat walnuts. He raised his own family in that oak and his descendants live there to this very day. 

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Previously Posted on FullofKnowlege.com

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How to be a good friend.

Over the years, I find myself thinking more about my friends and how they are doing. I’m reminded of my mom sitting at the window in the early morning sunlight with a cup of Earl Grey writing long letters to loved ones. Now that I’ve moved far away I now receive her letters and it makes me smile to know that I can close my eyes and see her as she was writing it.

While reading a letter from mom today it was evident to me that the content of her letters are significant. By this I mean she mentioned how friends and family were doing but also includes lessons to be mindful of during my day. She knows my naughtiness, you see.

I was quite troublesome for my deal old mum during my fragile formative years and she did the best she could to make me understand those things of which I felt I already knew. Parents react differently to a troublesome child than they would a friend or partner. They are more patient and see so much of their younger selves in us. Hurtful words are said in anger yet forgotten with a hug and cry moments later. 

When I think of friends I have lost over the years I often find myself hoping I could go back and undo the damage done. I wish I could have been more patient with a wayward friend and not so intolerant. As years pass I remember what a dear friend they once were rather than the issue that separated us.

I share now my mom’s lesson for today. Love is always about giving and never about taking. You give your love to others and others give their love back to you. Always try to see yourself in others no matter how far removed they may initially seem. Judge them as you would yourself but forgive instantly. Sometimes parting is necessary, it’s in the doing that matters.

These days I cherish the friends I have as a result of the friends I have lost in the past. My mistakes in the past remain painful but have made me mindful of how I seek to resolve issues today. And I realize today that my very best friend was the very first one I ever had. 

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What is America's Role in the World?

America Takes a Lesson from the Roman Empire

Augustus Caesar was the founder of the Roman Empire and was its first Emperor. After many wars resulting in the expansion of the Roman Empire, Augustus stood overlooking the glory that was Rome under his leadership. His reign initiated the era of Roman peace known as the Pax Romana. The wars had been bloody and no quarter shown to neither the enemy nor their people as Rome sprawled across the known world. They paid for their attacks upon Rome with their lands, their blood and that of their people. The realization that followed was the cold resignation that they were now standing on land owned by the Empire of Rome. 

By this opening, I am not advocating total world domination and the establishment of an American Empire. But neither do I pretend there is any other way to achieve lasting stability in the world. We have fought wars long enough in our time upon this earth to know the natural laws of warfare. You can not invade a nation, cripple it, leave its resources intact and then leave. Within your lifetime, you will see that nation rise up and threaten you again and with more vengeance than before. In the act of your good intent you have made the deaths of those that fought your war in vain. And you place those that must now return to fight the enemy in harm’s way. 

Germany was left with its sovereignty intact after WWI. The world watched as it rebuilt itself into a superpower that threatened every country around it. Everyone that had fought and died to put Germany down in WWI had died in vain. Everyone that died in WWII putting Hitler's Germany down for the second time died needlessly. Again, I am not advocating war in any form. I'm simply clarifying that although our perception of war may change, the nature of war does not. 

History has shown us that war is a Pandora's Box that now opened will plague man throughout his existence until either one of two things take place: The total conquest and continuing control of all nations at war by the strongest power lasting until no one alive remembers war; Or the mutual agreement of peace by all nations as a result of the imminent threat of extinction. For America, one or the other is certain in our future. Left to continue as it is, war is certain to spread until it threatens mankind's existence. As history repeats itself, America's role should only be as a negotiator for peace once the warring nations have exhausted themselves fighting. 

By all means our efforts should be in building our defenses for self preservation but not as a world police force. This has proven costly and counter productive in every scenario since the Vietnam War. The images and reports that return to us from these regions are heart breaking and we feel we should do something. But until they want peace for themselves, there is nothing realistic that can be done.

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Above and Beyond

Drunk Driving Affects Officers as Well

The deputy shoves me hard over the front of his cruiser and cuffs my hands together. I turn around and lean against the car. He instructs me to stay as he questions my wife. The blue lights flash in my bloodshot eyes as passing cars slow down to see what is happening. The remains of my car are scattered into the battered tree line. The deputy knows she was driving, the witnesses have already told him. But my statement doesn't match the witnesses. I continue to insist I was driving which was complicating his job. She was obviously intoxicated and open containers were found in the car. The officer is arguing with my wife to get her to admit to being the driver. I slump forward and collapse to the ground. I tasted thick blood in my mouth before losing consciousness. 

Deputy Chad Powell was sitting by me when I woke up in the hospital. The force of the impact had torn the lining of my stomach. This was as a result of my seat belt binding me and my precarious position at the time of impact. The bright red rash caused by the seat belt was proof I was not the driver. Chad looked at me with a somber expression. "If I had believed you, I'd have taken you to jail 20 miles away from the closest hospital and you would have died. I know you pulled her from the driver's seat just before impact. The tree stabbed through the driver's seat. So she would have died. The only way your story would be true is if you were dead now in the driver's seat impaled by a tree."

I admitted to nothing but my wife had already confessed to being the driver. But Chad Powell wanted something else from me. He wanted something I was not ready to give anyone. He visited me every day while I was in the hospital and even left his home number to my mother. I resented this. I had no love for law enforcement and neither did my family. But by this time, my mother had exhausted all means of reaching me. The thought of my own mother potentially turning me into the police infuriated me and I ended contact with her. 

My wife and I continued to have law enforcement come to our apartment as our marriage descended into madness and ruin. Each time the Sheriff's Department was called Chad was there on the scene. He even showed up when he was off duty. I perceived it as a personal vendetta he had toward me. Sometimes officers take it upon themselves to do such things. Each time he put me in the back of his cruiser I got a lecture from him. He asked me if this was what I wanted for my life. He knew my sordid family history, my time in military service and even my college courses. Deputy Chad Powell had done his homework and I felt the weight of his influence. He informed me that my mother was worried about me and cried to him. I kicked the cage separating us in his cruiser to get him to stop talking. 

Each court date I was to appear before the judge Deputy Chad Powell was there. He nearly had me denied bond on one of my pending charges related to a prior DUI. I was found not guilty of the charge and my attorney cited harassment against Deputy Powell. I smiled at Chad as I passed by him leaving the courtroom. It was possible I could get him fired and he knew it. He looked back at me with an expression of strengthened resolve but said nothing. 

I had decided to separate from my wife. I had not been rehabilitated of my ways but could not afford another fine or court case. All was well for a few weeks until she returned to my apartment and broke through my kitchen window. I had been drinking alone and she had been drinking all night. Our heated exchange spread into the parking lot and the Sheriff's Department was called. A deputy took my wife and Chad took me. He was in plain clothes and had nothing to charge me with. I smiled as I told him, "I'll have your badge for this." 

It quickly occurred to me that he wasn't taking me to jail but driving away from town. I assumed it was time for Deputy Chad and me to come to blows. I asked him if he was sure he wanted it to come to this. He said nothing as he pulled into a darkened church parking lot. He exited the car and opened my door and walked ahead into the cemetery to the side. I exited the cruiser and peered around mildly confused. I saw he had stopped at a headstone. I stepped beside him and read the name on the headstone. It reads, David R. Powell. 

Chad explained to me his younger brother would be my age. He was addicted to cocaine and drank heavily. One night he drove his car over an embankment and flipped three times. His vehicle was unrecognizable but he appeared to be unharmed as the highway patrol arrived. They leaned him against the patrol car awaiting the ambulance and moments later he slumped over and collapsed to the ground. He died on the scene. Chad explained I had done the exact same thing the night of my accident. And he couldn't allow me to meet the same end as his brother. "I don't know why I took you on as a personal project. I guess I saw so much of David in you. I couldn't save my brother so I guess I'm trying to save you. I'll take you back home now and you can do what you want." 

Deputy Chad Powell was one of the people in my life that helped me make a change. I have come to realize that drunk driving doesn't only affect the drivers and the loved ones killed as a result. It affects the officers that arrive on the scene as well. 

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