Creature Care

I dreamed I was visiting my mother in Colorado at their new place. It was night and we were going out. When we got back, she revealed that she had bought me a lot of new pets. I felt overwhelmed at the responsibility and rushed around taking care of them.

The two new fish needed to be put in separate tanks and one needed a different, bigger tank. I cleaned out the tanks and tried to make pretty, healthy new homes for the fish.

Then I got the turtle and made him a nice comfy bed in a box and fed him. For some reason, turtles always talk in my dreams. He was a sweet little fellow.

There was some sort of furry creature that I tickled until it curled into a ball and fell asleep.

There was a monkey, too, that kept hooting and swinging around. I finally calmed it down and rushed to the next furbaby, wondering, "With all these new things to take care of, how am I going to take care of myself?"

From Rebirth To Rape

I dreamed a few nights ago that I was at my grandparents' house. It was dark and silent. There wasn't anyone there except for me.

And my dead grandfather.

He was lying facedown on the couch and he'd been there a while. He was deteriorating, becoming a cold, white mass of clay.

I kept staring at him, thinking about him - his big ears I always liked so much, his beard that made him look like a gnome, his laugh, his twinkling eyes. I loved him.

And then his face turned.

I saw his eyes. They were open. He was breathing again.

He slowly turned back into the grandfather I knew. He was alive. He got up and we talked about this miracle, that he had been dead and now he was alive again.

---

Last night I dreamed that I told one of my friends something about me, something personal about my sexual nature (or rather, the irony of something scientific and sexual about myself when I am an asexual). They teased me about it and I left shortly after.

That night, they came into my room and got on top of me, holding my neck with one hand and kissing me, attempting to replicate something I had told them about myself. I struggled and struggled, but they were bigger and heavier than me.

Before it got worse, they got off of me and thought they had succeeded in what they had wanted to do but they hadn't and I told them so.

And then the room went dark and I woke up.

---

I hate dreams like those. They color my interactions for the next several days and I never reveal what the cause is behind the awkward interactions. It's yet another reason to be afraid of people, another layer in my trust issues.

---

I've never been raped except in my dreams. I always wake up before the worst part but it was so real (I can feel them on top of me and I can feel them touching me) that I feel like I have been raped. Why does my brain torture me like this?

---

I grew up assuming I would be raped one day. I've never even come close in real life to being raped. Two of my siblings were molested but I was never even approached.

In the back of my mind, I've always thought, "Am I not desirable enough?"

How creepy and twisted is that?

---

I had a dream once about someone I knew. They raped my sister and I was so fucking enraged that I cracked their ribs while I screamed at them, "WHY DIDN'T YOU WANT ME LIKE THAT?"

---

It bothers me, this repetition of rape in my life. It's  horrific and I don't know why it keeps popping up. I hate that people are so cruel and evil that rape happens. I hate these crimes. I hate that people are raped. I think it is one of the most evil things a person can do to another. But I wish it wasn't such a big part of my life. I wish I could forget that this happens. I wish I could forget my dreams where it happens.

I don't really know what to do about it.

Dark Night of the Soul's "Whiff Of Death"

I've had two dreams lately about my mother dying - one literally and one figuratively.

The first dream happened in a ranch-style home. The blinds were drawn and I was shepherding my mom around her new home because she couldn't see very well. We'd managed to patch up our relationship and it was going quite well but as I tilted the blinds to let light in, the thought struck me, "Is God just doing this because He's going to take her away and wants me to get closure?" I started weeping then because I knew what was coming.

The next dream took place back in our old log cabin (the first one - in Cosby). My sister and I were upstairs packing. I was telling her about a story idea I'd had, about an Indian mother and daughter. They had moved here to start a fashion/style business and the daughter was very good at it. She was doing well and going above and beyond, but her mother could never let her be and always double-checked behind her. She got her daughter to order a vehicle to transport some fashion for a show but she couldn't bear the thought that her daughter might mess that up, so she went on foot to check on it and the daughter accidentally hit her while backing up.

"You see, it's a metaphor," I explained to my sister, who didn't like the story very much. "She always second-guessed the daughter and came up behind her to check on her work, but in the end it killed her."

---

There's a beat in movies called "Dark Night of the Soul" (as explained in the incredibly helpful Save The Cat! book by Blake Snyder). It's headed toward the third act of the movie, when everything has gone wrong. The hero sits and contemplates their failure, sure that they are doomed. Every good film has the 'whiff of death' element, the seeming certainty of the end looming near (even, Blake points out, stories like Elf).

I've been thinking about that a lot as I prepare to write yet another draft of this story I've been working on for the last six years. What is my character's Dark Night of the Soul?

This of course leads me to reflect on my own life. I, on the one hand, know that my story isn't a straight, linear narrative. It can't be. Life isn't cut and dry like that. It has a beginning and an end, but the middle parts are all jumbled up and it's a miracle if people even make sense of a piece of that and figure out how they want to spend part of their lives and who they want to spend it with.

I have had many Dark Nights of the Soul. Most recently, everything in me caved when I got really ill and stayed alone for several days. I finally reached the bottom and thought, "Why am I still here?"

I didn't become a phoenix, reborn out of the ashes. I didn't experience an epiphany. I merely kept breathing.

Life isn't a story (which disappoints me greatly). Life is a wreck. You've got to keep treading or drown. People get tired. People die. They can't keep moving.

I don't know what this means for me or how it will impact how I tell stories.

I'm still muddling through it.

But I am curious about how my brain chose to work through something like this in multiple dreams this week.

Back and Forth

I go back and forth between wanting to be with people and secluding myself. I think it hurts too much to be with people because I am starving for affection. I don't want to force myself on anyone so I turn into a hermit, living via Netflix and Tumblr. 

I'm lonely. And no matter how many friends I have, no matter who comes into my life after this, I am suffering alone. 

I'm still asking why. I'm beginning to think that there is no reason. I've created many - I took him for granted, I didn't love him enough, I pushed him too hard, I was moving past him in terms of seeking out the life I wanted, I didn't catch what was wrong in time, a whole long laundry list of things that make it my fault.

Maybe I could trace it all the way back to losing his father. He lost his father; he turned to food; he grew up poor; he needed help that he couldn't get; one thing after the other turned into a blood clot that separated us.

Maybe there is no answer to the billions of "why" questions I scream silently every night. 

Maybe bad things just happen.

So what comes after that?

What comes after accepting that life is wretched and horrible things occur just because it sucks?

Isn't that nihilistic? Shouldn't there be some meaning behind it? Shouldn't I be able to derive hope from something like this?

I don't. All I see is that stories let me down. I can't trust anyone, even the person I loved the most. He left me. God left me. I am abandoned. I am alone.

Life is dark. It's pain, it's agony, it's ugly. People are dying. People I love will die. I will die. And for what? Because some stupid humans listened to a son-of-a-bitch serpent? Who would let that happen? Why would someone create these things when they knew this would happen?

I don't know how to respond to myself when these thoughts pour into my head. There aren't any ready answers. How do you comfort someone who is grieving? How do I comfort myself? I don't know. I don't know, and it kills me. Because if I can't find some answers, I don't know how to go about living the rest of my life.

If it's pointless and things just happen, then what's the point in keeping on? I'm just going to die anyway. I am so afraid of death. It was so close to me. I would rather choose my death then have it surprise me again.

But I'm so afraid to die. I go back and forth between wishing I was dead and praying that I won't end up in hell to believing that everyone will be in heaven. I turn around and around, seeking comfort, but there's none to be had.

What happens when the bottom falls out of your life and everything goes with it? Where does faith come in? Where does hope come in? It doesn't. At least not in my case. Not yet, if ever.

So how do I go on from here? I'm tired. I don't want to fight anymore. I'm barely surviving. What do I have to live for? I'm still here because I know how selfish it would be to give up. The people in my life do not deserve to have to deal with another death. It's unfair. So I'm still here. But I don't know why.

I think if someone could answer just one of my why questions, and if I could know that what they said was absolutely true, I would have some glimmer of hope, some measure of comfort. But no one has an answer I believe. Maybe my trust issues are to blame.

All I've really seen in this is that life is the shits. We are born into this ugly, forsaken world and we fight to survive, only to die in the end. I fought my whole life to believe in happy endings, only to realize that this world doesn't have one. How am I supposed to feel about that?

I feel angry. Hurt. I was lied to. It doesn't matter what the truth is anymore because no one told me any of it. My entire life has been one big lie. How do I go about finding the truth? Will I believe it when I reach it? What if I don't like it? 

I think that's really my problem. I don't like the truth. And this isn't a universe where I can go about changing it. The illusion of control doesn't work on me anymore. I'm here, and things will happen to me. I cannot do anything about it. I feel like my life has been raped. Like my life-virginity has been taken from me. Life has used me and cast me aside. I'm useless now, all the hope sucked from me.

How am I supposed to live with that?

I've moved on from Why (mostly). I still ask it, but I no longer expect an answer.

I've moved on to How. How am I supposed to live now? How am I supposed to live my life when I have no control over it? Should I just let things happen to me? How am I supposed to do what I want when I can't control what happens? How am I going to keep on living?

I don't want to fight anymore. At least, my brain doesn't. I think my heart is stupid, because it keeps beating. For some reason, I've never taken that last step. For some reason, part of me wants to live. But it's no use asking "Why". No one ever answers.

Bats In The Belfry, Terror in the Tower

I dreamed my father, sister and I were in my trailer packing up my things. There was a cat, and it scratched me. I immediately began to grow old, wrinkling and my hair turning grey. I ran around, attempting to curb the oldness before I died. I had been cursed.

I finally reversed the curse but couldn't quite put my finger on what had worked. We moved my things into a tower, one with a ceiling all the way up and a staircase winding all the way around. It began to flood and we began to get very sleepy and I realized I'd been cursed again.

I wracked my brain trying to figure out how I'd reversed the first curse. The water grew deeper, sloshing against my legs. Bats were flying up high, but I knew even if we climbed to the very top, the water would drown us. We would die, drowning in our sleep.

I finally realized that I'd drank something with oranges in it at the trailer. "IT'S CITRUS!" I screamed. I ran to the microwave, barely above water level. I squeezed some lemon juice and made hot lemon water. When I pulled it out of the microwave, I smelled it and instantly felt more awake.

I passed huge cups of the stuff around and before the water got any higher, we managed to stop it and find a raft.

Then I woke up.

Purring Cats and Panic Attacks

I had a dream last night that a bunch of friends and I were on a trip. We were staying at a hotel-like place, but it was owned by a familiy we all knew. Their little kids were very destructive and I was afraid for my stuff - I'd brough some electronics, some art stuff and a very beautiful glass piece (there was a reason I brought it but I don't remember). It was sort of shaped like a boot and it had gold swirling around in some kind of liquid inside it. It was really beautiful and something I treasured above all else.

I was walking through a room when I saw my friend K and his new girlfriend (in the dream - he is single at the moment in real life). His girlfriend was carrying what looked like a big, flat dragon claw. They were coming into the bedroom I was in so I panicked and left. I wondered if they were going to be messing around and what the dragon claw was for but it freaked me out so much I couldn't think about it.

Instead, I went to another room where people had gathered and started petting a cat. I sat down and the cat brushed itself against me and let me hold it tight. It pressed into me and started purring and I giggled because it felt funny and the cat felt me giggle and purred even more, a circle going round and round of mutual delight.

After I felt better, I got up and packed some of my stuff. I went downstairs and saw that the kids had used my computer to watch something but hadn't hurt it. However, the glass piece I carried with me had been cracked, and poorly repaired. The liquid wasn't seeping otu of it yet but it was only a matter of time. I was sad but tried to tell myself that it was my fault because I had left it alone.

When K reappeared we had a talk and I broke down, shaking and crying because the dragon scale had reminded me of punishments I'd received as a child. He assured me nothing had happened.

And then I woke up.

A Dream Is A Wish Your Heart Makes

I had perhaps the cruelest dream yet last night.

I dreamed that Stu was alive. I dreamed I was visiting his grave and suddenly, there he was. He explained what had happened - the doctors wanted to try an experimental surgery and so they put him in a coma-like state but they were unsure if it was going to work so they let me think that he had died since they weren't sure if he was going to survive anyway.

But he did. And he'd lost a bunch of weight and was almost at his goal weight. He looked so happy and I just hugged him and gave him a kiss and told him I was sorry for those last days when I was so angry and hurt and wild and helpless.

It was just like it used to be. We were laughing and joking and holding hands and we never stopped touching. I knew how precious this chance was and I was not going to let him go.

We moved out of our one bedroom CIU apartment and moved into a beautiful two-bedroom in the city and it was the beginning of something new and beautiful...

And then I had to wake up.

Thor, Loki, Hera & YHWH

I had a dream a few nights ago that I'm still puzzling out. I...don't quite know what to make of it. I think part of it is just stuff I've been thinking about, normal brain-putting-puzzle-pieces-together type stuff, but some of it was pretty wrapped up in something that has been bothering me for a while. I'd appreciate any feedback if anyone has an idea about what this or part of this could mean.

I dreamed I was at a friend's old house, but it had a basement. I was there with some people and dogs and it was raining outside. We were having a party, I think, but I needed to be alone and think so I went down into the basement.

Then I found myself on a ship in the middle of a storm, and Jane, Thor & Loki were there. I was hopelessly in love with Loki but didn't want to tell him because I'd heard stories about how unfaithful he was. I wanted to protect myself and wanted our love to be pure and everlasting. So I struggled up to the deck to speak to Thor.

"Thor, I need to talk to you," I shouted into the wind. Jane was somewhere else on the boat and Thor's face indicated that he thought I would be haranguing him about his relationship with Jane. "It's not about you and Jane," I reassured him. "It's about Loki."

I told him how I felt about his brother, but all Thor could say was that he wasn't sure if Loki wanted that kind of commitment and that I'd have to speak to him directly. Loki was belowdeck and I knew that I needed some more advice before taking this step. I decided to seek out Hera, Goddess of the Hearth.

I went to a cottage in the woods at night - I opened the door and stepped into the kitchen, where a fire was roaring. I imagined Hera there, a tall, slim golden-haired woman. I sank to my knees and asked Hera for help. At first, her image was pure fire, but then she became a short, stocky African woman who looked both tribal and modern. She had a gentle face.

I apologized for imagining her like myself. "No matter," she said, "You believed in me."

I told her about my troubles and she presented me with a thin golden chain with a bright shining golden object on it, like a charm. It looked a bit like a chess pawn. She showed me how to wrap it around a Corgi and she wrapped another around another Corgi and told me that they would run together so long as no one destroyed the gold pieces.

This wasn't what I wanted. I wanted something that could last forever. But not even Hera could promise me that. So I decided I would have to watch the necklaces and took them off the dogs. I had to spend a lot of time untangling the necklaces, but at last I got them undone. Then I held the necklaces in my hands, hiding the shining light from everyone.

-

Isn't that a strange dream?

I don't feel like I was actually visited by Hera. And Thor and Loki were definitely Chris Hemsworth and Tom Hiddleston's interpretations. But I feel like sometimes God uses imagery in dreams to help me figure something out.

Maybe I need God to be Mother for a while.