For a while I had nightmares. Horrific. They happened so often, and so terribly, I had a system. If I woke up before 2 am, I could call my dad (who lives on the west coast). And if I woke up after 3 am, I could call my sister who lives on the East coast. This left a one hour window of terror, but we won't talk about that now.
If I called my sister, I would usually tell her the dream—then we'd talk until I felt like a normal person again. If I called my dad, I wouldn't tell him about the dream, we'd just talk. It's silly when you're in your late 20's to tell your dad you have dreams about blood dripping down walls and demons in tornadoes.
I don't know exactly what happened that made them stop. I probably learned how to deal with stress in a better way.
But since they stopped—I have to say that my dreams are kind of awesome. The other night, I dreamt I was giving a swim lesson in a pool with zebras swimming underwater! Like 30 of them! It was really pretty.