Did anyone ever read Kerouac's Book of Dreams? Yeah, me neither. It's only a dream, Jack.
So you have to contend with your dreams on your own, unless you pay for a professional to listen. Does anyone do that any more? That Freudian or Jungian talk therapy seems to be out of favor & overwhelmed by the onslaught of drugs. Drug therapy. They have a drug for pretty much everything. Be careful not to mix your medicine. Synergistic action can be extremely deadly.
I figure I just have to figure out things on my own. Dreams: Attacked by Feral Cats? A surprise hair-cut at a party? Spooky-looking, ominous, fish swimming around in a pond? Car chases & crashes, guns drawn, intense episodes of some kind of Miami Vice- like series. Reliving ancient fuckups & calamities, reliving idiocies & episodes of expert self-sabotage. I really have been my own worst enemy. It's been a long & winding road.
I long-ago left behind the worst of my most self-sabotaging habits. Decades of living clean, exercising, eating well, meditating; happier for it. Living honestly, earning an honest buck. Living creatively with heart, head & spirit aligned with the folks I love. The most dramatic or traumatic episodes in my life were all basically instances of self-destruction. Sure, I never killed anyone, I just methodically marinated my own brain cells for kicks & laughs.
So yes, in the middle the night, alone, vulnerable, wrestling with a worried mind. Luckily it all vanishes in the a.m. Even if I awake before the light of day, the coffee immediately does it's work. All that hurly-burly and tumult & turmoil, just fades away. Still, there is a lingering wisp of uncertainty hanging over & within me. Maybe I'm not as together as I think I am? I suppose I have some unfinished business. Work to do on my self. Every day just trying to be, & to do, better. Do my best to be my best; an enthusiastic, fully-woke & fully-engaged Human Being. Alive, aware, awake. Damn the torpedoes. I mean, fuck it.