Another strange dream last night. This one I kept falling back into. It started “normal” enough. I had gotten a job at some kind of MLM operation. I was going to meetings and learning the ropes. These meetings always ended with some sort of product test. This went on for a while and everything seemed fine. I ended up going home, which was my grandmother’s house.
As time went on, things started getting weird. I would be going down L Road to the library. Suddenly things would go dark and gloomy and I freaked out. I tried running back the same way I came. But I never could escape the place.
This all went on for a while. Then the MLM thing turned cultish. There were people chasing me every time I tried to leave. As before, this went on for a while. It got more and more intense. In the end, people were holding me down as I struggled to get away.
Thankfully I woke up at this point and listened to a podcast to center my mind.
I’ve been having bizarre dreams lately. Last night’s dream has been 0n my mind all day.
It took place in my house at the present day. A drifter comes by and settles down in the family room. I finally get her out but I can’t close the garage door fast enough and she keeps coming back in. This happened three times. I finally decided to call the police. There were three phones in the room. None of them actually worked. One phone was garbled. One phone wouldn’t dial. The third one was just dead.
I finally went upstairs and managed to call the police on a phone up there. It took me a long time to communicate what was going on. It felt like we were speaking two different languages.
The officer finally came and I explained what was happening. It was at this point where I woke up. There was no resolution to the situation. I never figured out why communicating was so hard. I wish I could have fallen back into the dream just to see how the whole thing ended.
I have two views about children. What I think about me as a child, and what I think about all the other children in the world.
When I think of me as a child (looking back on the past), the only thing I see is what a horrible person I was. I was was clearly at fault for what happened. I can only blame myself. It’s full of shouldas. I should have told someone. I should have fought back. I shouldn’t have hid.
When I think about other children, particularly ones in situations like my own, I see nothing but innocence. How could you blame them? It’s like their lives are out of control and they’re doing the best they can.
I have a hard time reconciling these views. On the surface, it seems so easy. But when I try to tackle it, all those negative thoughts come racing back.
One of my biggest challenges has been taking showers. There were countless times where my father fondled me while washing my hair. I came to hate showers and associated them with pain and anxiety. And the fear and anxiety led to what I call the 3 minute shower. In and out just as fast as you can.
I’ve been struggling with shower issues for years. I finally buckled down and got my fears under control. It took a lot of time. I started by just standing in the shower, fully clothed, for increasing amounts of time. Once I felt comfortable there, I moved to standing in the showers with no clothes on. That was really hard. But with time, I was able to be in the shower for increasing amounts of time.
Then it came time for actual showers. This brought back the panic full force. I just had to power through it. Now, I was doing all this in the daylight. Nighttime was nearly impossible. So once I finally got comfortable with showers longer than three minutes I started back at the beginning, but after dark.
It feels like the entire process took f0rever. Now it’s to the point where there isn’t any anxiety surrounding the shower.
I’m having a hard time organizing my thoughts lately. More so than ever, my thoughts are scattered and racing. I have all these memories just swirling around. And I just don’t know what to do with them. It doesn’t help I have writer’s block. Just typing these few sentences has taken me a solid half hour.
So, how to organize the thoughts and memories. Dr. D asked me to think about how I could organize the memories. It could be by house. I was 4 when we moved to MH from L. That doesn’t make a lot of sense. The time just doesn’t work out.
I guess I could organize them by time. But so many things blur together that I don’t think it’ll work.
The thing that makes most sense is to organize things by abusers. These incidents are separated pretty well in time and space.
Now to just get over my writer’s block…
My earliest memories date back to living in the city of L. I can so clearly see the red carpet in my room and the flowered wallpaper. The color of the carpet places my age at about 3-4. We moved to MH when I was four.
The thing I remember the most is my father undressing me. And as he was doing it, rubbing my chest and vaginal area. I felt so scared. It didn’t feel good. It didn’t feel right. I remember crying. He would try to get me to stop crying by offering me candy. And it worked. I was a kid and bribery obviously worked on me. I remember being cold and shivering. It was an old house and my room was drafty.
It was a nightly thing. I get a feeling in the pit of my stomach just thinking about it right now.