the invasion dream.
“leave Me alone”.
the invasion dream.
“leave Me alone”.
the screaming dream.
Sometimes I don’t want to turn the lights off…and I don’t want to close my eyes.
Sometimes I don’t want to sleep…just in case I can see what I do when my eyes are closed.
That sometimes moment…is now.
She says, the psychologist, that even though I don’t want to do something, I need to just do it anyway. It’s all part of the new theory of not letting your thoughts rule you. Just because I think something doesn’t mean that its real. Or that it should stop me.
But she’s never been in my dreams. And she’s never been there when my eyes are closed.
She says that it will get better. And she’s right in part. It is better. Sometimes.
She says to get my ‘bag’ of sensory things when I feel like I don’t want to be present. To find the thing that helps ground me.
But I don’t know that I need grounding at the moment. I just don’t want to close my eyes. And I don’t want to be present.
I haven’t told her yet, that the thing she says I should do…the, just do it anyway…is what I’ve always said. Just do it anyway. It hurts but just do it anyway. You don’t like it but just do it anyway. It’s been the survival theme song.
And now it’s supposed to help me let go of everything that I see when my eyes are closed.
It’s some fucked up shit alright. Times like this, I wish I wasn’t giving up the pills.
But I am…and I won’t give up fighting…cos I don’t…and I will be alright…and I will close my eyes…and I will sleep…and I will be alright.
First Published on: Jun 28, 2015 @ 00:41 ❤
Keep going you good thing you xo
First Published on: Jun 11, 2015 @ 23:17 ❤
I have my days where I’d like to throttle him; not in a good way 😉 And then there’s day, or nights, like last night, when I get that he gets Me … and I’m grateful.
The nightmares are re-surfacing / flashbacks are becoming more frequent.
But of course, I’m not alone in my bed anymore; or dosed up to the hilt on sleeping pills.
Last night I had another ‘trapped – get Me the fuck out of here’ dream. Whenever these happen, the partner has been trying to wake Me – without getting his head smashed in by a half asleep Me. Instead, last night, he did the following:
Spoke loudly, but calmly – so I could hear him.
Rubbed my shoulder, gently and calmly.
Left his hand on my shoulder until I had woken up.
He kept repeating: ‘It’s Ok dear … you’re dreaming … I’m here’.
For this, and for many other quirky reasons which I tend to forget – I love him.
He is the Yin to my Yang.
It’s not that I forget that they diagnosed pts(d). Not at all. It’s just that sometimes I get a taste of ‘normality’ – very loose definition of – and I just enjoy rolling with it.
And then something happens … usually in my dreams.
And I am viciously catapulted back to ‘reality’ – also loosely defined as such.
The latest catapult came the other night. After another one of those dreams.
Where I am Big, as in, an adult body.
I can’t move. I can’t speak. And when I try to scream, not much more than a whisper, comes out.
So again, I am lying, naked, trying to scream; sticky clammy hands running all over my body … trying to move them away, with my body, with my mind … mouth wide open, in an enraged, violated scream.
And nothing is coming out.
My partner woke me from this dream. He says it was going on for a long time and I wouldn’t wake up.
He’d placed his hand on my head and was speaking quietly and calmly to me; a. so I didn’t hit him; b. so I wouldn’t get a fright.
It seemed to work.
I woke feeling angry, scared, frustrated, violated …
I’m hoping the return of this dream means I am ‘working it out’ somehow; and will come to another ‘ah-huh’ – moment whereby something registers in my being – something is put to rest … I hope.
And then I remembered these:
I told Johanna that I’d post pictures of them for her, when the exhibition came down. I was abit late.
But what has become of this piece; is I have given my permission for it to travel to Australia in May, with a woman who is speaking at a conference on working with women who have experienced violence / sexual violence. Some of the other art that was in the exhibition will be making the trip with her too.
I figure assisting those that assist others is a good a reason as any to have my insides on display.
I also figure with every step, or every dream, that feels like a step backwards … there is a multitude of forward strides that are taken, as Me and people like Me, Respond.
a shit load of weird ass dreams has greeted my minimal sleep over the last few weeks. and i’d kinda forgotten, thats how my ‘being’ processes shit: and if i pay enough attention to them, i can figure out whats going on in my world …
so thats what i’ve been trying to do:
I had this dream the other night that I had in my possession, castrated and mummified penises. i woke up with a giggle actually … but then wondered what the fuck that meant. its not a dream i’ve ever had before.
theres some interesting interpretations of this type of ‘nightmare’ here, but not entirely accurate for me.
my interpretation has more to do with taking away ‘power’ and collecting it for myself i think.
but it got me thinking about the other things that have been happening around me … one being, my relationship with my partner and again, my lack of affection toward him. did my dream represent what i emotional do to him every time i don’t want him near me?
and then theres the impending doom dream that has repeated itself over the last couple nights. the feeling that i’ve some how ‘angered the gods’ and something that looks like trump, is raining down hell fire and damnation on my ass. and this has more to do with a ‘feeling’ in my dreams, rather than actual ‘things’ … except for the trump face, that pops up … rants and screams … and disappears again.
after pondering on this for awhile, i recollected some of my conversations with family over the last couple of weeks. especially after the earthquakes and with the bizarre weather we’ve been having of late. and we’re all kinda ‘conspiracy theorists’ slash ‘looking for answers in unusual places’ people. and a lot of conversations have been about ‘why’; why is it the way it is … because of the drilling? fracking? because the government has been throwing 1080 all over papatuanuku? because some fucker years ago blew up a radiation plant and the fallout is fucking with the atmosphere? because we dont eat right? because some prick has messed with our bees and plants and the soil is so full of pesticides? on and on it goes … and over the last year or two i’d come to some kind of peaceful place about all this … that papatuanuku (the earth) is bigger and stronger than anything we could ever do to her … the she renews herself and heals herself quite capably … just like my body does. …. but somewhere in the aftermath of earthquakes and stress, i’ve kinda lost my quiet place on this … after seeing that it is actually possible for an entire country to vote in a misogynistic fucker like trump … was and is quite disheartening.
and i also remembered that as a kid, and growing up, i carried this impending doom kind of feeling with me … that i had literally fucked the gods off and they were coming to get me … that everything that had happened to me throughout my little lifetime was because of what i hadn’t done, or not done really … not enough faith, not enough prayer … being BROWN, because those bastards worshipped idols pfft … the list went on … and while i didn’t believe it; i believed it … just in case.
that drowning sensation…when its so windy you cant breath … yeah well theres been a few of those dreams … and like number 2, this is not an act or event, its an ever present feeling throughout the dream.
and on closer inspection … this is exactly how i’ve been feeling since my sister died. not enough room to catch a breath … enough … but not quite enough.
the m.i.l, grimacing at me. dripping out of her mouth was, ‘are you alright … you need to just forget about it you know’ …
now this is real. i just relived it in my dreams. and she is not the only person with the pretence of caring … but the agenda is really to do with her … or whoever is doing the pretence …. they don’t care, and they don’t understand and they don’t really want too. they just want it all to go away so i can do whatever it is that they want me to do … or be whatever it is that they want me to be.
i was trying to act normal lol. walking through an old mall i used to go to and that my brother worked at. there was an old army tank parked outside the salon with a wicker chair beside it. i’d hit the tank by accident and sat down on the chair to talk to a guy who was in a local gang (as you do lol) … i recognised the chair from years before hand and lifted the cushions up to have a look. underneath were about 30 or 40 old envelopes with my writing on them. some said ‘lunch money’, ‘haircut’, ‘car’ … they were all old bill envelopes i had put away to pay the bills with, and now they were here. there was thousands of dollars inside all the envelopes. i was just starting to count the money when i woke up.
weird yes. and technically the one and only ‘money’ dream i have ever had in my life. i laughed cos it all seemed semi ironic … but i had an overwhelming sense of ‘what i had been’, ‘what i had done’ that was right … good.
what does any of this mean? well, i’m not entirely certain yet … but i’m working on it ….
Dreams ~ Fleetwood Mac, 1977
*For those that can’t handle, this is a warning … not that I usually give one … but for some, the discussion of this dream will be disturbing as it’s about rape. It’s not all negative, hard to believe I know, but I get that some of my shit it hard to deal with and it isn’t my intention to freak anyone out un-necessarily … I just gotta get my shit out … so yeah …*
This partial post has been sitting in my drafts for days … but as you know … I hate drafts in my draft section … it all feels so … incomplete!! LOL
But I’ve been waiting for a reaction to a dream a had about 3 nights ago. I still have disturbing dreams but they aren’t as frequent as they used to be; and I’m usually able to go back to sleep after a while. That’s progress, for me.
The other night I had a rather graphic dream about being raped by the pedo cunt. The face was slightly different, but the ‘intent’ was the same … to gain power … to terrorise … to humiliate … to belittle … to laugh at … to torment. To hurt.
It was all there.
It’s usually at the beginning that I wake up … sweating and crying and I get up and shower … to remove the ‘feeling’ … to wake myself up properly.
This time, I didn’t wake up though and an entire rape happened.
The other difference this time (dream wise), was I wasn’t little (body wise) … I was an adult.
The other huge differences …
…..as he laughed his face off in mine … laughing at the pain and fear in my face … and the fear that was in my body and the tears that were rolling down my face ….
I screamed at him, that he was a cunt, a fucking cunt … and the more he laughed the angrier I got. The scream turned into a violent bellow … you know those gutt wrenching “FUCK YOU” bellows … yeah, well one of them … and it raged and it went on for like forever ….
and as he continued laughing and doing his filthy deed, I bit his chin till it pissed out with blood … as he pulled away, the flesh ripped and I spat it out at him … he continued to laugh …
then I bit his cheek and the same thing happened … blood everywhere, flesh everywhere … and then I raged some more …
I couldn’t move my body, as such; I knew it looked like an adult’s body but it felt small … and it felt like it was being crushed …
but the feeling in my spirit … my gutt … my soul … was pure and utter RAGE ….
The thing for me, that is good, is that this has never happened before. Usually, like I said, I wake scared, shaky, sweaty, crying … and in my dreams that powerless feeling takes hold something fucking awful.
But this time … just RAGE. There were all the sensations of what was happening … but a pure perfect RAGE … at HIM … not me and my powerlessness … but HIM and his fucking filthiness!
And when I woke up …
I felt an amazing, overwhelming peace and sense of orientation and satisfaction.
That has never happened before.
I think I waited so long to share my victory because I thought somehow I would have some sort of ‘delayed’ reaction or was in some sort of fucked up denial.
I feel like I have turned a pivotal corner and wasn’t even aware of it coming.
As gross and vile and fucking disgusting as it all is …
I’m not as I was. I am different. And I am fucking love that!
i think thats
how many times
about all those
fucked up details?
I’m a details