I don’t remember my dreams anymore. In college I kept a dream journal, and sometimes I would remember two dreams a night. I would write them down and read about possible interpretations, use them to inspire my art, and ruminate over their meanings.

I suspect the medication that helps me sleep really well also is responsible for the lack of dream recall. I can’t be certain, and it doesn’t really matter, as I’d rather have the sleep than the dreams. But I do miss the inspiration that they used to bring. I sometimes miss having a big inner world. But mine would get so big that I would fall right in and it is hard to climb back out of that deep well.

So when my psychiatrist asked about my emotional blunting, I had mixed feelings. Maybe it’s okay not to be able to cry when you want to? To not express a lot of emotion? To be regarded as the calm one? Is that the trade off for having years of relative stability? I know I am fortunate in that regard. As my psychiatrist said, many people with bipolar spend very little time in euthymia, the stable state between depression and mania. I have gone for a few years without an episode. So I feel very fortunate to find myself in the predicament of not being able to cry. I appreciate that it is a minor side effect, that can possibly be “fixed” by tweaking my medication.

I have a great fear of messing with my medication routine right now, as it is going so well. When it comes to bipolar, I just want things to stay the way they are. We can always count on change, though, so my hope is that whatever mood episode comes my way, that it is mild.

On very rare occasions, as I am waking up I will get the glimpse of a dream, but it disappears before I can catch it. It is nice to know that I am still dreaming.