I Keep Trying to Stay Calm, but Everything Feels Too Loud
“I had two strange dreams in the same night. First, I was flying through the air on a twin-size mattress with someone else. I was holding on so tightly, clutching the sheets, begging them to land it. I thought I was going to fall. They wouldn’t stop. Then I was in my kitchen, but it was full of people who were supposed to be gone already. They were making a mess—my sweaters were covered in powder, and someone had thrown garbage in the laundry hamper. Everyone just sat there talking. I didn’t say anything. I just stood there, watching it all. What does this mean?”
Hi Cody,
There’s something about the way you told this that doesn’t feel like a dream at all. It feels like a snapshot of real emotional life, just told in the language of metaphor. Not surreal, not bizarre—just unspoken.
And what stands out most is that in both dreams, you were surrounded by people… but still alone in the experience.
That mattress might not be about flight. It might be about fear. About the kind of fear that shows up when someone else is moving faster than you want to go, pushing higher than you’re ready to handle, and not listening when you say you need to come down. That dream doesn't feel like an adventure. It feels like survival. And you weren’t steering, you were hanging on, quietly asking for someone else to hear you. They didn’t.
Then there’s the kitchen. It’s supposed to be your space, your home base. But it’s been overtaken by people who don’t realize they’ve worn out their welcome. They’re not hostile, just unaware. They’re making messes. You’re finding the consequences of their presence in places that shouldn’t be touched—your sweaters, your laundry. And once again, you’re watching it all unfold, saying nothing, absorbing everything.
What happens when we’ve spent too long holding in the things we actually want to say is that sometimes they spill out sideways. Not in outbursts, but in dreams. You didn’t yell in either scene. You didn’t demand. You didn’t push back. But your subconscious gave you two full vignettes of powerlessness and emotional invasion. That says something.
Of course, I don’t know exactly what these dreams mean for you. But I do wonder:
What are you holding in?
What situations in your life are moving faster than you’re comfortable with—and who keeps asking you to hold on just a little longer?
Where have you made room for people who no longer feel good to host?
And what parts of your emotional house have gotten messier than you’re letting on?
None of these have easy answers. But I know that dreams like these tend to show up when our waking life doesn’t give us enough time, or permission, to name what we need.
Maybe the mattress isn’t just about fear. Maybe it’s about what happens when you give someone else the controls and hope they’ll protect you.
Maybe the kitchen isn’t just about mess. Maybe it’s about the quiet ache that forms when other people treat your space like it’s theirs and expect you to be gracious about it.
Or maybe none of that is exactly it. Maybe you just needed to feel what it’s like to be surrounded and unseen. Lifted but not supported. Inhabited but not protected.
What I can tell you is that these dreams don’t feel random. They feel like a signal. Not that something is broken, but that something in you is ready to be listened to.
And not by the people in your dream.
By you.
-RJ