Fucking Dreams!!!

If you don’t love me, don’t read this.  Honestly.  Don’t even go there.  Here.  Leave it alone.  I’ve written these types of posts before but put a password on them because of the content.  I’m making this one public, maybe, I’m not sure yet, because I need to show what it’s like.  I need it to finally be known. Perhaps that will bring some sort of closure.

This is trauma.  Dreams like this.

I just woke up from a dream.  In it, I was asleep, and my husband was sleeping with me, and so were our kids, all in the lounge room.  I woke up, sort of that sleepy awake, and my husband was trying to tell me something and I couldn’t make it out so I kept repeating the bits I could hear, to get him to repeat the bits I couldn’t.  Eventually I worked out that he was mad at me.  Like furious mad.  Mad like no one has ever been mad at me, and if knew my mother…  well, let’s just say, that furious mad doesn’t give it justice either.

For some reason my aunt and uncle were there too, and on his side of whatever this was about.  I never did find out, though it had something to do with money.  In real life I look after our finances and my husband has zero interest in it at all, so long as the bills get paid.  At some stage.  He doesn’t even mind if they’re late, if I have a plan to get them caught up.  He’s that awesome in real life.

In my dream, he was coming at me from all sides.  Yelling.  Getting in my face until I was backed in a corner.  I ended up sitting on small table, waiting for him to ask for a divorce!  I just knew it was coming.  I was scared of him, physically and emotionally, for the first time ever.

I ended up escaping outside.  Just after I sat down on the front steps, it started raining.  I was wearing this white shirt that was long enough to be a very short dress.  My hair was getting wet, and despite all that had happened inside, I was enjoying the view and the way the rain was making my hair wet.  It seemed appropriate to be getting drenched like that.

Then all of a sudden, I was surrounded by people in police academy uniforms, holding guns.  For some reason, they needed to train on my front porch.  Apparently, the trainer explained, it was all sorted out with my landlord.  I asked if it was alright if I stayed and learned something.  He was fine with that, though he suggested I might want to change into something a little less see-through.  I told him I was fine where I was for now – no one could actually see anything the way I was sitting up in the foetal position.

The cadets were learning how to disarm someone with a firearm.  One of them said something I wanted to rebut due to the impossibility due to physics lol, but I kept my mouth shut, and just kept watching.  The cadets liked having me there.  A couple of them used me in their exercises.

I decided I should go and get changed after all.  Our door had changed to a window however (it is a dream after all, so these things happen), and I tried twice to get in, each time, hurting my back and hips more and more.  I was so tired from having no sleep and a huge argument and being scared and now in pain.  My body just collapsed.  I fell to the ground, conscious, but unable to move.  My eyes were half shut, so I couldn’t see a lot, but I could feel everything and I could hear everything.

The cadets training came into action and one of them was holding my head before I even hit the ground.  The trainer tried to get me to wake up but I simply couldn’t move.  I tried to even just move my fingers, and damned myself for not learning Morse code other than SOS (which, duh! lol), but I couldn’t even move that.  I heard them go and knock on the door/window to tell my husband I had collapsed, and I expected him to come out, but he didn’t.

They kept trying to get me to wake up and the more insistent times brought on myoclonic jerks – full body ones.  They knew then that something was really up, and called for an ambulance.  I like the trainer – he did his best and seemed to really care.

Once at the hospital I could hear one of the medical personnel talking about me.  They were comparing a photo of me as a teen to a photo of me now.  They said that I looked “normal” back then, but that obviously I have lived through a lot because I don’t look like the same girl now.  That was the words she used – “she doesn’t look like the same girl now”.

Some other stuff happened, and then two women from another law enforcement agency were there, talking about me.  They were imagining the things I might have gone through, trying to work out why I was in the state I was, why I looked so different.  The myoclonic jerks were still happening.  One of them started tickling the top of the back of my legs, and it brought back a full flood of memories of past trauma’s – so much so I actually moved my arms to get her to stop.  Then the other one started doing the same, and I used both my arms.  I still couldn’t speak, or move my whole body, but I used my arms to try and stop them, but I couldn’t.  It just got worse and worse, and I was freaking out so much, until I finally woke up for real.

I get these dreams where I can’t move quite often.  Where I’m unconscious physically if that makes sense.  It’s always because I’m so tired.  Just so exhausted I just can not move.  They usually happen when I am actually exhausted from something, which is fucked up because that is when I need my sleep the most, and instead I wake up, exhausted and not wanting to go back to sleep in case I go back to the same dream.  As it was, I did wake up from this dream at least twice that I remember, but went back to it…  UGH!!!

It was all so real.  It felt so real.  It still feels real.

I can’t stand this.

Disability consumer and activist. Pissed off since 1995... Mad as a hatter since way before that.

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Pissed off since 1995. Mad as a hatter since way before that.

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