a sniff of …

I had a ‘moment’ last night:

  • I wont call them anything but a ‘moment’ now .. they’ve taken up to much space

A sniff of residue … hint of a flashback … one that’s  probably been waiting for a very long time to make its way to the forefront of my mind’s eye.

Think I wrote a post, or made a comment on someone elses post, awhile ago … about your body, mind … remembering things when its good and ready … that there’s not really any need (for me anyway) to go digging around for ‘memories’ to deal with … I mean, for fucks sakes, who needs more stress???

And I guess I have had a rather long ‘rest’ in terms of pts(d) flashback occurrences. Not that they don’t happen … I just know what to do (for some of them) when they do happen now …

But this …

It’s been floating around on the outskirts of my dreams … my mind … my memories for a while. I haven’t actively ignored it … but I haven’t actively sought it out either!

I’d say I got ‘screen one’. I’m hoping that’s all. But I know it’s not.

But …

I won’t fear it …

It made me cry. But I don’t want to shed anymore tears over it. But I haven’t quite yet harnessed all that anger that is lurking in the back of minds eye as well!

All these years … it’s been silent. My memories. I see pictures. Remember smells. I hear an occasional ‘bump’, but not voices.

Last night … I heard him speak. I had forgotten that he spoke. Questioned. Conversated.

The pedo cunt, ‘engaged’ with his prey.

He lured. Gained trust. Through language. Through conversation.

He tried to gain compliance. He did gain compliance.

And last night, I heard his filthy voice.

Not here. But back then.

What ripped my world though; was it came when I was having a moment with my partner. How fucking cruel is that.

I logically know enough now, to know that it isn’t my partner. That he could have done nothing differently. That because I was having a ‘safe’ moment, that little flashback fucker was able to make its way to the forefront.

That in itself is a good thing. Because its here now … in the here and now … I can deal with it. I have more at my disposal to deal with it than I ever have had before.

Does that make it better? Fuck no.

The whole thing is stewing / coagulating in my insides. I feel like my head is going to explode! But I know it’s already been and gone … this is just the residue. The ‘sniff of’ what was.

I despise that pedo cunt more than I ever have before.

How dare he mess with my world! With Me!

I have no interest in trying to understand the sick fuck anymore. I do hope he dies a slow miserable death though.

kpm ©


yep. I still have fucked up dreams.

*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.

But No.

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!

kpm © : ig @kpm-artist



nightmares … four


I move along, through a place…space. I stop and can feel someone /something watching…moving with…miminking, me. I turn and theres noone there. I keep doing what i was doing…washing my hands…folding…picking something up…and it moves with me. Just short of me. Like a stutter or movie thats not quite in time with the talking. I turn again and there’s no one there but i can feel them/it breathing. Breathing on me, on my face; and i can feel it moving. I start to cry and i can hear a snigger. Not loud, low. I stop crying. It stops sniggering. I move, it moves. Im scared. Pressure tightens on my neck. It sniggers. I cant breath.

I wake up.

I think i was about 6-7 when these started.

dreams are just plain old bitches mate.

kpm ©



nightmares. 3

There’s always blood, lots and lots of blood. Dismembered people, bodies everywhere. And there’s no one left living. There’s blood up the walls, on the floor, in puddles on the concrete. Its soaked into the bed, through the sheets. It’s on pillows, over mats. It’s throughout the kitchen area, and lounge area. It’s literally everywhere. And wherever I walk I can feel it squelching underneath my shoes. Its sticky in places and slippery in others. And the smell is everywhere.

I wake to that smell. And feeling cold.

yep, they be bitches. JS.

kpm ©



nightmares. 2

These always start with something different, as in, I’m at the shop, or doing the washing, or talking to a friend…and they end up here…I’d be running away, trying to find a place to hide. I’d end up on stairs that seemed to go on forever and I feel like I can’t get to the top, or I’m going to fall off. I eventually get to the top and come out on a sky scraper type building. I hit the ground and the building starts swinging sideways and like a tree, it starts bending.

I always wake up when they swing to far and I am about to fall off.

I wake disorientated, sweating and usually gasping for breath. These take quite awhile to physically recover from. When I stand up, I still feel like I’m swaying.

did i mention dreams are assholes? i did?

kpm ©



nightmares. 1

I can feel myself breathing and tensing. Tight. Rage. In my gutt, my head, my chest. In my limbs, shoulders, through my neck to my teeth. A searing sort of pain, dark, with shadows.
I look for something, to touch me. Kindly.
They would walk past…mother, boyfriend, husband…whoever i was close too. They don’t see me. I talk. They don’t hear. I get louder. They don’t hear, or react.
I scream in their face – im here, look, im here!
They smirk, turn but don’t acknowledge. They take their fist and jam something up into my uterus.
Then pull my insides out. Smirk at me. Walk away.

I’d wake sweating and shaking and with the smell of blood in my nostrils. The first time I remember this dream, i was about 6 i think, we lived in the big house.

dreams can be assholes. JS.

kpm ©


I don’t want to close my eyes


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.

kpm ©



bright moon insomnia.

sometimes when i can’t sleep, i spend ages getting annoyed about trying to get to sleep then more annoyed because i’m not asleep.

but i’m learning slowly, that its ok to be as i am.

awake or trying to sleep.

it doesn’t really matter.

the other night i went outside, after waking up in a sweaty, shaking mess. i sat there for awhile, trying to ‘re-ground’, or re-orientate myself.

then i noticed the light. it was so bright for such a late hour. finally, looking up, i saw the biggest, brightest moon i think i’ve ever seen, or at least, noticed. and it was beautiful!

then it occurred to my brilliant self, that if i had’ve been asleep -or pissed cos i couldn’t go to sleep – i never would have seen this!

today i am grateful for not being able to sleep.

ig @kpm-artist