An All-Star Cast of Nightmares

I’ll never forget it. January 1, 2015—the first dream of the new year, and it was such a bad omen. I’ve been battling depression for five years since starting treatment, but I rarely dream (or rather, I barely sleep). I hadn’t had a “first dream of the year” in decades. Yet this year, I had a vivid one, and it was the worst kind.

What kind of dream? A parade of nightmares featuring everyone I can’t stand. The star of the show was my parent, who, upon learning I have a disability, called me “defective” and told me, “Your life’s over, so just die.” Some people, even parents, just don’t get mental illness. No amount of sugarcoating changes that.

In the dream, my parent was the same as ever: “You don’t even want to work, do you?” (For the record, I’ve been working at a Type-A transitional employment program for four years.) “You’re just a money-sucking leech!” (Even though my coworkers splurge, I’ve been frugal.) Their clueless remarks were as spot-on in the dream as in real life. Can’t you at least be decent in my dreams?

Next up were the kids who bullied me in middle and high school. Anyone with a disability, not just depression, knows we’re prime targets for bullying. It was the same tired, petty harassment. I wish I’d fought back—it’s just a dream, after all.

Finally, the final boss: my company boss. You know how some people go beyond cruel and it almost becomes laughable? This boss spouts nice words but mocks people with disabilities behind their back—the worst kind. I woke up in the middle of their relentless harassment. The discomfort when I woke up was next-level, especially since it was my first dream of the year!

It feels like I’m only writing negative stuff, but that’s what it’s like for people with mental illnesses. Having understanding family or friends is truly a blessing. There’s a line from a song I love: “People who aren’t reliable are fools, but those who rely on them are even bigger fools.” It’s something like that.

So many people are struggling with depression or other illnesses right now. But even family or officials won’t always understand—some people just don’t. What matters is finding those who will understand. It’s tough, but unreliable people are truly unreliable. I’ve regretted trusting them too many times. What’s important is finding someone who gets it and believing in yourself. (24 years old, female)

※This article is a personal depression story. The content is solely based on personal experience and is not medical advice. Consult a doctor for professional advice.