I’m not sure about you, reader, but, often, I wake up twice in the morning. The first time, often as early as 3 or 4, practically always feels as though it’s the real thing. Like being up at midnight the week I’ve just arrived in Asia, I get to work as if it were noon, because it may as well be. Based on experience, though, I know I’m only in a dress rehearsal and that, in the way the combined force of an ocean wave’s undertow and crashing crest can insist on a sudden posture adjustment, a need for more rest will assert itself out of nowhere. But it’s usually all a pleasant experience.

Both times I woke up this morning, it was in a terrible nightmare-panic.

In my first-last dream, I seemed to be part of some kind of interactive restaurant tour group a prominent podcast and former cable news host was trying to convince to fish. (I think the idea was for diners to catch their own meals.) Grab a hook, as many hooks as you can. Don’t hesitate!, she insisted. Hey it looks like that salmon is just about to die, a fellow tourist noted, before the animal hurled itself out of an aquarium onto the ground and I grabbed for it, before realizing that, even if it was out of strength, I didn’t want to be any part of cutting its beautiful life short. As one of the restaurant staff began to try to turn the fish into a meal it yelled and yelled in pain and I felt powerless to save it.

Later, I found myself (as has been the case in so many of my most heart wrenching dreams for so many years) at the old CNN Center building; but instead of its being largely abandoned by the corporation’s live production units, which happened earlier this year, it was as brimming with activity as ever, blaring messages loudly on a constellation of screens that felt difficult to escape and unveiling ads featuring the company’s newest marketing partner: Taylor Swift. While I realize this may not sound like a nightmare, it felt practically the same as seeing the potential next president and vice president of the United States partnering with CNN not long ago on their first national interview in the sense that the display felt like the company’s attempt to assert its control over almost everything and everyone in the world. There is no one so powerful they can’t be controlled by us, it seemed to taunt, no one so rich we can’t buy them. To speak up about CNN is not just to isolate oneself or to be up against the company; it’s to be opposed by everyone whose partnership (be that corruption- or fear-based) it has amassed, even if that includes the president.

For days, I have felt reminded of how it is that, of all of the public figures in the world who have served as guiding lights for me, each one gained the most valuable wisdom on their own. (God was with them, of course, but the lessons they’ve shared that have been the most resonant have been artifacts of wilderness experiences.) This is certainly the case for numerous historical figures, the most notable being Jesus himself; but in terms of people on earth today, it is also so.

Feeling like literally the only person on earth willing to stand up to CNN has been very difficult, but there has been something grounding about believing in my heart it has been right to do so. I don’t want to settle for the shallow show-wrestling theatrics of podcast punditry mafia members or the fake-neutral small talk of legacy media outlets who pretend nothing is happening even while they actually do everything in their power (which, ultimately and God-willing, won’t be any) to silence women.

I don’t think I ever could have imagined speaking about this topic would be so difficult, but I also believe it would be hard to overstate the value of the feeling of groundedness doing so – and being willing to stand alone – has yielded. And, while it is difficult to be certain, I love the concept of holographic healing one mentor, Nouk Sanchez, has underscored in her recent writing for the assurance it provides that every time one takes a heartfelt stand for mankind, every membership of the sonship feels it on some level.

Tonight, as I go to bed, and despite everything, I feel good about the possibility that, in losing so much outwardly, it actually still may be true I am managing to grab hold of something I may need more.