I’m dreaming in emotion. I’ve never experienced anything like this. As early as five, I remember…
I was five. I was five when I dreampt that. My step-brother had crawled into an oven. The oven didn’t hurt him, but he melted the face of my doll. I’ve been terrified of dolls since. Seeing its face melted in on itself like that… I was five. I remember waking with fear and hatred toward my brother. He was already beating me.
This was the first dream I remember. Shortly therafter, I dreamed I was in a room of Christmas trees with my Grandmother. I fell through the floor and landed in an underground sewage room like… an elevated cabin over a swamp that had become sewage. I was five or six when I dreamed this.
There was the dream when my mother had her arms ripped off. There was blood everywhere and she was chasing me. My father tried to get away. He took us kids and ran. But there were too many of us. He couldn’t save me. I tripped and he tried to help, but he had to keep going. My mother with her bloody arms was trying to get me. I was certain it was a disease I could catch… She cried at me. I woke up before she got me, but I knew. She did get me. I was eight when I dreamed this.
That was the first of many dreams where my mother died. I remember no other dreams but I remember waking up so many nights and standing over her crying while she slept. I was careful not to wake her.
I remember the make-believe I made as a child. Sexual in nature. As a mother looking back…
There was so much sex around me when I was five… six, seven, eight… but it wasn’t literally there coming from an outside source. It was me. The way I played with my dolls. My make-believe. I was enslaved and tied up. One dream… I was caught in a spider web, and the spider was coming to eat me. When I woke, I was still wrapped in its web. After a brief though intense panic attack, I realized the web was really a blanket. At some point, I had wrapped myself up like Frodo in Shelob’s web so that I couldn’t move. It was so tight, my arms had gone numb. I was horrified and it took me so long to get out.
No control…. no control…
There was the dream based on Tad William’s Cat-a-Lyst. I’ll have to tell you about that dream some time.
And then the Death Men… and the rapes.
I’ve dreamed I was a man in WWII and my platoon all died. I dreamed more rapes than I care to recall. I’ve dreamed I was a marine fighting alongside 8 year olds. I had pieces of their bodies and blood on my face. That dream… Vivid and so real.
But I never dreamed with any emotion. The emotion was saved until I woke. Accept the Death Men, but I was between sleep and awake for those. I’ve never had a Death Men dream anywhere else but sleep and awake.
Lately now… all I ever do is dream in emotion.
Judith? Are you there? I just need to know you’re there. I’m certain you are.
So much emotion.
Last week I dreamed in 3rd person. I stood watching through the eyes of my daughter while I looked on and watched myself being raped, tortured, and impaled by zombies. There was so much more to that dream…
Last night I dreamed that Isaiah took my children and left. Then my step-father, Jake, kicked me out and I moved in with my father. I was trying to collect my things and leave. But I had to stop and make cookies for Jake. I filled out the change of address form.
My husband reported last night that I fell asleep begging him not to leave him. I have no memory of this and told him this had to have been after I fell asleep.
I hate my nightmares. My nightmares give me nightmares.