When multiple sclerosis invades even my dreams

I may not be able to turn in circles like a dog anymore, but I still have a few bedtime routines.

Before I had an intrathecal baclofen pump, multiple sclerosis-induced spasticity would wake me up multiple times during the night. Whenever that happened, it was next to impossible to fall back asleep.

Now that the spasticity is controlled, I’ve been able to concentrate on the other things that interfere with rest. Before I do anything else, I make sure to empty my bladder. The days when I could navigate in the dark to the toilet without really waking up are long gone.

Then I position my side of our adjustable bed just so, along with the blankets, my pillow, and myself.

Finally, with everything in its proper place, I clear my mind and drift off “to sleep — perchance to dream.”

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Dreaming in MS

Except during the period when my spasticity was at its worst and my sleep sporadic at best, I regularly dream. My dreams are of the usual variety, I suppose. Some are fiction, some documentary, some fantasy — but they’re often spoiled because I’m aware that I’m dreaming.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t mean that they’re entirely lucid dreams. I’m unable to control the action or pick the theme. If I could, I’d never choose to dream about multiple sclerosis (MS).

Most nights, MS doesn’t enter my dreams. It stands to reason that since the majority of my life didn’t include the disease, the majority of my dreams wouldn’t either. This is especially true when the dream is of a past, pre-MS, event. I might find myself in school, unprepared for a test and not wearing pants, but at least I’m in good health.

Occasionally, my dreams are of the present. Sometimes they represent my true current state, but sometimes MS isn’t there. Those dreams are rare, because my awareness shows up armed with reality to ruin things. In several of these dreams, I’ll be walking when it’ll occur to me that I shouldn’t be. Then, like Cinderella at the ball, I’ll find myself struggling to reach some kind of support before I collapse.

When that happens, I guess I should thank my awareness for giving me time to reach a chair. What I’m not thankful for is MS intruding into my dreams. I’m well aware of my reality, but I feel like my subconscious should be off limits.

I’ve had at least one dream (that I remember) of a possible future in which I was walking again with trekking poles on a familiar path. I stumbled and let go of my supports, but instead of falling, the stumble turned into a slow, shuffling, joyous run. I don’t know why awareness didn’t interfere that time, but I’m grateful it didn’t.

Maybe hope is the one thing that is off limits.

Note: Multiple Sclerosis News Today is strictly a news and information website about the disease. It does not provide medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. This content is not intended to be a substitute for professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. Always seek the advice of your physician or other qualified health provider with any questions you may have regarding a medical condition. Never disregard professional medical advice or delay in seeking it because of something you have read on this website. The opinions expressed in this column are not those of Multiple Sclerosis News Today or its parent company, BioNews, and are intended to spark discussion about issues pertaining to multiple sclerosis.