I’ve been taking Lexapro for a couple of months now. And in addition to some of the other good outcomes I’ve gotten from this drug – fewer bouts of sadness and weeping and anxiety, less anger, better sleep – I also have to say: I’m diggin’ the dreams.
Extremely vivid dreams are evidently a common Lexapro side effect. I wonder if it’s not because those of us who take it previously experienced sleep disruption that kept us from getting enough of that good, deep sleep that provides a good home for memorable dreams.
But anyway, I have had some doozies lately. In one recent dream my near-daughter-in-law (who is, ironically, a psychotherapist in New York City) was dragging me through a huge, busy Gotham shopping mall in search of a fish platter for an upcoming family party. But she wouldn’t let me stop to look for the desired item: “No! No! We need to go here!...No, let’s go here!...Wait! Look over here!” It was like Alice Goes Shopping in Wonderland, with cameo appearances by a variety of city stereotypes whom we were constantly jostling in our mad rush down the endless mallways. (“Hey! Youse guys! Watch out, willyouse?”) I’ve dreamed of snowshoeing in the woods only to emerge on the main street of an unfamiliar small town, with the sun going down and absolutely no idea how to get home. The other night I dreamed I was hiking on a brushy mountainside in Scotland with several athletic Scotsmen clad in kilts – och, laddies, watch those knees. I even had a dream of my late mother tearfully chiding me for not doing my housework the right way.
But usually my dreams are far more entertaining than anything on television. Which may be why I’ve been hitting the hay well before the 11 o’clock news.