I'm Naked!

A quick Google search for the most common nightmares reveals that many of us have nightmared (not a word, but "dreamed" seems too pleasant to use here) about being naked or "nekkid" as we say in my native tongue. You know the deal - you're on a stage, in a classroom, or down at (the) Walmart, and then the realization hits you...you ain't wearing a stitch of clothes.

This situation, as it should, ignites an inner monologue of critical analysis:

• Everyone is staring at me! - OR - No one is even looking at me. Which is worse? 
• Did I come here in my birthday suit? 
• Did I just strip down spontaneously in aisle 7? Why? Why did I do this?
• Why is Sponge Bob here? Maybe he will give me his pants. Why does he even wear pants? He's a SPONGE, for crying out loud.

Dreams are a weird bit of business, aren't they? Including naked situations, I have a few recurring classics from the "Top 10" list of most common nightmares:

• I'm back in high school or college, and one of two things is happening - I'm late for a final exam for a class that I never attended OR I'm wandering around in the hallways, because I can't find the rooms for any of my classes.
• My teeth are multiplying or growing larger to the point where they are breaking off and falling out. A derivative of this one, I think, is getting chewing gum stuck in my teeth. I try to pull it out and some of my teeth come out with it. The gum is a never-ending, possibly growing pink blob of ick. It is surely the preferred gum in hell and is complimentary with your Comcast subscription. 

Gross. If you are still reading this - I'm sorry and thank you. 

So where am I going with all of this?

I'm no expert in dream analysis, but I think it is safe to say that naked dreams - and most nightmares in general - can be traced back to some form of fear at the root. Fear of being exposed, vulnerable, rejected, unlovable, alone. This fear monster has kept me from doing a lot of things in my life - including and especially writing.  I have always felt like I could write my thoughts/feelings much better than I could physically speak the words, so what's the problem? Anytime I've received encouragement to write more, I get a surge of inspiration followed quickly by, "but why would anyone care about what I have to say?"

Until now, I have let defeating self-talk and insecurity win in the battle of "to write or not to write" among many other personal struggles. Here's the thing though - Courage is NOT the opposite of fear. Being brave/courageous is having hope and faith in *spite* of fear, not in absence of it. In other words, It's not brave if you're not scared. In the words of Annie Downs, "Let's all be brave." So here I am - in the bravest pants (square or otherwise) that I could muster. Reviving "Amy's Just Saying" is me taking a small step in what I hope is the right direction.