Nightmares, Trauma, and a Song Called The Dark

3 August 2025

Sweat covered my body as though I had just been showered by a sporadic burst of rain. Completely drenched. Out of breath, with my heart pounding in my chest…it felt like it was about to burst and leap right out. My eyes flew open. Just another nightmare. One of many that have haunted me throughout my life. I couldn’t calm my heart. The memory of the dream disappeared into the night like a fading mist, but the fear remained; lingering, shapeless, and still so very present.

Being afraid of the dark feels unusual for an adult. When I was younger, I believed that once I grew up, fear would vanish. That my dreams would no longer haunt me, and the shadows of the night would stop taunting me. But there I was, every bit an adult, still paralysed by dreams I didn’t fully understand. No matter what I did, no matter how many years passed, I couldn’t shake the fear of the night. The fear of the dark. The fear of my own dreams.

But in 2024, something shifted.

One night, after waking from yet another nightmare, I was filled not just with fear—but with anger and disgust. I couldn’t settle. I crept into bed with my little boy, holding him tight. Searching for comfort. And in that moment, I was overwhelmed with self-disappointment. There I was, a grown woman, a mother, afraid of the dark. And worse still… I sought comfort in the arms of my seven-year-old son.

I felt like a fraud. A little girl trapped in a grown woman’s body, pretending to have it all together.
“I’m a grown woman, afraid of the dark.”
That line kept playing in my mind until, slowly, it took on a melody. Soft at first, then louder in the stillness of the night.

I grabbed my phone and recorded the tune so I wouldn’t forget it by morning. Only then did I feel my body and mind begin to relax.

The next morning, I played the recording back. I couldn’t believe what I had captured. A song had come to me in the dark. A melody born out of frustration, shame, and exhaustion. It was beautiful. But I wasn’t done.

I pulled out my recording equipment and began piecing together the chords I had heard so clearly in my mind. Before I knew it, I had a full demo. It was raw, honest, and deeply vulnerable. And somehow, it made me feel whole.

At first, I thought it couldn’t possibly be mine. Maybe I had heard it somewhere before? I searched online to make sure it wasn’t someone else’s creation. But nothing came up. The song was mine. Yet it didn’t feel like it came from me. It felt like an answered prayer.

What once felt like an irrational fear suddenly made sense. It wasn’t the dark I feared—it was the pain, the trauma left unspoken for so long. And for the first time in my life, I felt lighter. At peace.

I sent the demo to my producer. He returned with an arrangement that honoured what I had created. When I listened to it, my body went numb. Tears poured down my face; tears I didn’t even realise were there. It was like listening to someone else… and yet, it was me. A deeply healing, almost out-of-body experience.

Since then, my fear of the dark has subsided. I still have the occasional nightmare. I still wake up in sweats. But it's no longer torture. I’m still working through the origins of the pain, but the release that came through that song changed everything.

And now, for the first time, I get to share that song with you.

The Dark will be released on 29 August 2025. I hope it brings you peace, comfort, and healing. I hope it helps you feel seen. I hope survivors recognise that this song is for them. For you. Your fear is not irrational. You’ve lived through something real, and for too long, you were forced into silence.

Let this song help release the weight you’ve been carrying. Let it bring you the breath of peace you’ve been longing for.

I see you. I am you. You are not alone.
We’re in this together.

And if you’re still wondering, confused by the fear you feel… try a simple search:
“Why are some adults afraid of the dark?”
You might find more truth than you expected.

Until next time — Keep the music alive and buzzing.

Carnita Bee