Have you ever had a dream so vivid, so quietly unsettling, that it clung to you like a fog long after waking? One that didn’t frighten you with screams or monsters, but with the feeling of being watched, stalked, always one step from danger?
A client once shared a dream like this with me.
In it, she was being followed by a polar bear. Not chased. Not attacked. Just watched. The bear didn’t roar or growl. It simply stayed near. It loomed. She knew it was there. She knew it was dangerous. But no one else seemed to see it.
And the snow fell.
It blanketed the dream in a soft silence that made the bear feel even more out of place—like a ghost in a frozen theatre. She walked through the dream unable to scream, unable to act, just always aware that the polar bear was coming. Not to maul her. Just to watch. Just to remind her.
It took days for her to stop feeling its breath.
What the Bear Represents
In therapy, we explored what the bear might symbolise.
It became clear that it wasn’t just an animal from the Arctic—it was a manifestation of something much more psychological.
A symbol of danger that is subtle but constant. A symbol of survival-mode hypervigilance. A symbol of what it feels like to be a woman in a system not built to believe you.
Family court, for her—as it is for many—is its own kind of wilderness. For those who have escaped coercive or abusive relationships, it is often a place where the emotional abuse continues by proxy—through paperwork, loopholes, delays, and performance.
You escape the relationship, but the threat follows you. It stalks you. It keeps you quiet. It shows up in dreams with white fur and black eyes.
You learn not to scream. Because screaming never helped. You learn to watch instead. To become smaller. Softer. More strategic. Because the bear is always there.
The Mental Health Toll
What I want anyone reading this to understand—whether you are in the system, working within it, or supporting someone who is—is this:
The family court process doesn’t just trigger old trauma. It perpetuates it. Especially for survivors of psychological abuse. Especially for women navigating a system still steeped in assumptions about motherhood, hysteria, and mutual blame.
I see the toll it takes on my clients. Sleep disturbed. Appetite dulled. Shoulders tense. Nervous systems never quite relaxed.
Because even when the case is "paused," the bear is never far.
Making Meaning, Finding Ground
In dream work and depth psychotherapy, we often invite clients to ask: what is this image asking of me?
The polar bear may represent trauma, but it also represents power. And instinct. It is strong, resilient, unrelenting. Perhaps part of her—part of you—is ready to stop running. To turn, not to fight the bear, but to meet it. To ask: what do you want me to see?
For many women, especially those rebuilding their lives after abuse, therapy becomes the first place where the bear is named. Where silence is broken. Where dreams are listened to, not dismissed.
This is why I do this work. To help you find your voice again. To walk beside you while the snow still falls.
If you are navigating family court and need support for your emotional well-being, I offer a free discovery call to explore whether therapy with me may help.
You are not imagining the bear. But you are not alone with it, either.
With warmth and solidarity,
Leigh
Founder of Weir Wellbeing
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