I had a long-standing pattern in my dreams change this past week.

Just for the record, I don't watch horror films. Never have. They leave me feeling ill, instead of pumped with adrenalin. Ever since I was 11 or 12 years old, I'd get these dreams where I was trying to defend a home (my home, my grandmother's house, or an unknown location) from attackers. Sometimes those attackers were people I knew and was afraid of, or generic "bad guys", other times they were monsters or creatures like zombies or werewolves.

The pattern was always the same: It would be night or dusk. I'd board up the windows, terrified of seeing them prowling outside. Then I'd try to protect those inside with me...often family members or unknown small children, but they'd wander into other rooms, oblivious to the danger outside. One by one, they'd get picked off...shot, slashed, torn to shreds, eaten, dismembered. Last, or protecting a child, I'd be slowly killed.

Lately, I've been trying to play Bioshock. I've been interested in the game ever since it's release...love the art, love the concept, everything about it. Except I have a hard time playing the darn game. I've never played an FPS before. I can go for ten minutes, and I start to feel sick and shaky...it's too much like my dreams, especially given the dark and rust look to the game. There you go--I dream in sepia and and post-apocalyptic Ayn Rand dieselpunk. Makes perfect sense...right?

I decided that I wasn't going to let a game I wanted to play so badly mess with my head like that...I was going to fight back. And so I started reading everything I could about the game, like walkthroughs and character bios. I know it gets rid of the element of surprise, but that's helped immensely. After two weeks, I can play for ten minutes, and then need to take a walk. I am in control, not the game.

Here's the odd thing...the panic attacks I've been struggling with since December are getting better. The most surprising part, though? The dream I had two nights ago.

I was in the home I grew up in. It was daytime, though, not night, and I had my husband and children, and friends (including members of this board) with me. There were thug-ish enemies who had a network of tunnels in the garden. They were trying to take over the house, and enslaved those they captured.

I took charge, and people listened. I put three women in charge of the children, and sent them to a room with no outside access. I had people scrounge for weapons, sent them to guard the windows, and took charge of the back door (no more frantically rushing from place to place). There were casualties...but I didn't feel like it was due to failing on my part. I didn't cry or panic. I didn't try to save everyone myself. When I had a chance, I killed the enemies. Knife and gun.

The dream didn't end with me being torn to pieces. It didn't end with me winning, either...that was impossible.

But...I held my ground. Things are definitely changing.