A dream and a nightmare

The good news: Blake's diaper days appear to be almost over. We started potty training less than two weeks ago and he already has progressed from bribe-to-sit to standing and spraying all over the room. He's had only three "accidents," and I'm not convinced they weren't intentional attention-getters. He often wakes up dry from naps and nights. It's been amazingly easy, considering this is my passionate, stubborn, complicated, high-need child. I even have a favorite moment: "Mama! It looks like a pine cone!" And yes, it did.
And since it's OK to bitch, but not brag, here's the bad news: This success has coincided with a degeneration in sleep-time behavior. As if it could have gotten any worse. Absolute dysfunction set in in March when we took away his pacifiers, at the urging of Satan his dentist. It took five weeks to get over the screaming and night waking.
Peace had not returned, but we had settled into a new normal, when Dylan started standing (and falling) in his crib and needed sturdier accommodations. So Blake got a new toddler bed and Dylan moved to Blake's crib. At the time, it seemed Blake made the transition better than Dylan.
Then a package of juice boxes brought on a nasty diaper rash, so we started potty training.
Toilet training is an intimidating milestone, perhaps as much for the parents as for the child. You anticipate the mess, and worry about screwing up his psyche. But I never imagined the preposterous scenes that now play in our house every night and nap.
The screaming, the crying, stomping, snotting! The stalling, frantic hand-holding, tossing and turning, kicking! I can't leave him to work it out himself, for I fear for his safety. It's as if he turns into the Hulk. He moves furniture. Today at nap time, he fell out of his bed onto his head on the hardwood floor.
So I stand there in the dark, holding Dylan to keep him calm, and listen to fervent, ear-piercing pleas of "Mama! Put Dylan down! Hold my hand! Mama! I don't want to sleep! Mama! DON'T DO THIS!"
Often, if Dylan is asleep, I will hold Blake's hand. I don't have the heart not to. Then when he is still and his eyes close, I try to move my fingers away. He wakes, and we repeat the routine for up to hours at a time. He is finally falling asleep in the late 9 or 10 o'clock hour. He wakes, screaming, in the night and insists on holding hands again. I curse the creaky floorboards when I get caught sneaking back to bed.
What can we do? Is potty training the cause, or is the timing merely coincidental? Should we go back to diapers? Give back the pacifier? Put him in the crib and Dylan somewhere else? How can this be the same smiling child I enjoy all day long? Many times, in the midst of an episode, I have wished for less toilet success in exchange for sleep -- for all of us. I would rather he were flinging poo like a chimp in the Fresno Zoo than continue this tortured and torturous behavior.
Good night, for now.