Dream Entry #002

I was an abused young boy. Or maybe a boyish girl. I wasn’t allowed to leave the house, and even though I laid by the pool outside, it was so quiet. I was afraid, sans adrenaline, and it was this strange claustrophobia of being free and not free. Pastor Pete was just next door with his wife and family – they actually possessed the same Incredible family powers. But I couldn’t bring myself to leave because I think, I was paralyzed.

It was tormenting. It must have been a long dream because I was tortured every day, laying by the side of the pool on a sun bathing reclining chair, and this guy, he resembled Wilson Fisk and was supposed to be some sort of sick father figure or something like a groomer, he would come over every day and “prep” me. He would wash my feet tenderly by the pool, but I kept dreaming that he would slice off my toes, maybe even one for each day? It happened so many times I felt numb but that was what I was most afraid of, and this time it wasn’t a numbed fear, it was a very visceral one.

I couldn’t move, but I think his assistant must have felt terrible for me. This man was an oddity in the community and no one knew I was here and if they did, I was unable to interact with them. I just knew this man was evil to his core because I think he had a history of butchering children. But he didn’t kill me because of some particular reason that I couldn’t identify why, and there was this sick feeling or sense that he was also in love with me – no, my body. It was horrifying, but I couldn’t do anything.

The feeling of my toes being butchered was for the most part numb for me. He’d paralyze my feet so I couldn’t run, and so that I wouldn’t scream from pain. His assistant who was just a teenage boy, a very smart one however, would watch over the process with sorrowful eyes. He was the one who told me that I should keep “playing this game”, and he had the voice and role of Sans from Undertale. He kept encouraging me to stay and that this “game” is worth it, but I think he also was the one who told me how to escape. He said I needed to fight the Fisk butcher in an Undertale styled match, and so I did. I did poorly and I remember thinking to myself, did I just expose myself? Am I going to die? Because this “match” turned out to be the real thing I think and it was a representation of my escape of the house/mansion.

Picture frame, stairs, dust. That was all I remembered before I could finally escape that house. I sprinted to Pastor Pete’s house, but in my mind I knew he was at work. I remembered however his wife had the powers of Elastigirl and I needed to ask for her protection because Fisk would snap the necks of anyone who would try to help me, but he wouldn’t be able to snap her neck since she was elastic. This literally unfolded in my mind as I desperately pounded on her door, and

I woke up. 4:47PM on April 3, 2020.

A Deeper Slumber

For the first time in my life, I have never felt so violated.

For the first time in my life, I never felt so free after letting go of something I would never give up.

For the only time in my life, I knew how the dead felt: to release their loved ones from grief, knowing that one day we’ll meet again.

These are the dreams that make me wonder – are you testing me?

Let Me Sleep, Just a Little More.

I didn’t remember when I first woke up, but I wanted to fall back into sleep.

Away from what I call reality, I think that’s why I rest.

Why I love art and music, and DDO to transport me away from the game of Life.

Writing in nature even, surrounded by the buzz of people, birds, squirrels, the clattering of skateboards, the eyes that ever so watch me when I shut mine.

All encased within my shell, the ‘Buds that resound melodies.

I’m listening to music that carries a beat but somehow I can’t stop but think about my sister.

2 months.

Mama talks as usual on the ride to school. And she reminded me why I didn’t want to wake up in the first place.

I wanted to save her so badly. I dreamt that I was the one performing surgery. And despite the lack of memory over the surgical details, this was all that I could gather:

I thought of it like a plastic bag, then I realized a budding sprout was more appropriate. Snip the two pronged stems that support the fresh leaves, and then the supporting stem just above the root. I took it out myself, and while it was the only way, I also felt like I killed myself.

I was her, and not her, the surgeon but not the surgeon, in and out of bodily form.

This is what I dreamt. An ever so fleeting memory, or distant premonition, or imagination brought to life.

I told her today, after writing the above yesterday. She just hrmmed and listened, while I just described it as normally as I could. I mean, it wasn’t that serious. But my brain processes intense emotions into dreams, movies for me to enjoy. This one is the birth of grief, I believe.

I keep this blog sort of out of reach from my family. I’d feel awkward for them to read my innermost thoughts when strangers across the internet have access to them. Let it be. I don’t get how I tick sometimes, but those who may be the most closest to me don’t even know all of me. Just as I hide parts of who I am from others.

In a sense, I’ve never felt a true and deep connection with anyone except God who knows all of what I am. This distance, is not exempt from family relations. It’s rather – sad.

I was showed a new perspective today, I believe. Junie B. Jones. Remember it. Because finding out about my childhood’s love of reading – brought me to know – that somehow, get this, learning about the author’s death in 2013 opened my eyes on what was really important. Her life. Leave the rest behind, because whatever happens there is nothing worse than life robbed from my very comfortable world, the place of minimal fear and hurt that I grew up in, all made possible by her.

She is like my second mother, and father, so to speak. I was reminded of this fact today, and it deeply moved me. So I write, to not forget, because this chaotic mind of mine will lose these very raw emotions and thoughts in the turbulence of night.