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snickie · Feb 05, 2016, 10:45 PM

I was discussing dreams where you can barely breathe with my friend today and she mentioned that when it happens to her it's usually because she can't breathe but is just awake enough to fix that... or something. Anyway that triggered a memory of two dreams for me.

The first was that I was "swimming" in a place that kind of resembled a scene from Happy Feet (underwater), and as such I was holding my breath, but I couldn't get to the "surface" in time, so I "gave up" and just breathed normally - and discovered I could breathe, the "air" was just really thick. I think this was also my first lucid "flying" (more like air swimming) dream. In real life at the time, I was asleep in the back of my parents' car on a 12h roadtrip to go visit relatives.

The other one, which is currently of more interest to me, went as follows:

Possible trigger:

18 Sept 2015 (school year, no more than mid level stress at the time I think, I don't really remember)
My parents and I had been in some kind of accident. My dad needed a new hand and I was told I needed a new heart. One of the veins leading into it was crushed but they had already set up a temporary bypass. I was more interested in discussing my dad's hand than my heart, debating the moral and ethical issues and also how high we were on the transplant list. I didn't want to do it; my dad and I weren't high contributors to the world. My mother of course was upset but told me it was my decision.

I could feel my O2 stats were slowly dropping, like I wasn't getting enough air even though I was still breathing fine. So I confined myself to my room at the hospital(? It more resembled my grandparents' bedroom) which had access to an oxygen mask. I'd use the mask for a minute at a time and be okay again for a few minutes before I had to use it again. I put myself to bed and they showed me what they were going to do with my new heart. I sat and thought about it for a long time.

In the end, I decided I wanted the heart and went to the oxygen mask to knock myself out. A few seconds later I opened my eyes again and they were wrapping a discharge band around my wrist and slapping stickers on my hand. Apparently it was never my heart that needed a transplant but my voicebox. My throat suddenly felt fragile as I realized they had already done the transplant without my consent or knowledge so that I wouldn't go into the moral and ethical conflict (but why the gibberish about a new heart?). The dropping O2 stats had come from a slight rejection which they had fixed with drugs or something. Despite the deception, I ended up being so happy. I was discharged with a nurse to set up an oxygen machine in case it happened again, and was running and flying around (air swimming) excitedly even though they were telling me about I was going to pull my stitches and get dirt in them.

Somebody want to fill me in on what this could possibly mean? The breathing thing and any other part you find interesting.