(no subject)

[sorcyress]

Dear unconscious: That? That is what we call bad touch, and I don't like that you just did it to me.

See, I've been having incredibly vivid dreams this entire recovery process. It probably has something to do with the medical cocktail I've been on, mixed with the fact that I keep fully waking up in the middle of my sleeping, which is a great way to make yourself have vivid or even lucid dreams. Most of the dreams, I don't remember especially --wake up "that was weird" and it's gone. Little pieces remain from the past few days, but that's about it.

This most recent night's dream was incredibly long, and in a way, split across two separate sleeping --the whole thing had the same thematic feel, whether I was wandering around an abandoned school in the snow looking for some socks (I later woke up and put the blanket back over my feet) or hanging out with LezzieBeth(?) on a playground, being vaguely uncomfortable as she punched bats. The last bit was the bad one though. A whole bunch of boring backstory which involves me being in the concessions line to go see a movie --Rocky Horror, I think-- and me pouting because I totally don't have enough to get as much as I want. (They bring out these supergorgeous homemade peeps that cost 4.75 each.)

The guy behind the counter (who I think was Ed from my school --he works the cafe and is good people) announces that [this student] (can't remember the name) is looking for panties to buy as part of his order, and willing to pay twenty dollars for them! Who volunteers?

I immediately start rushing to get my panties off without removing my jeans (I have *some* modesty) or losing my place in the very long line. I get them off just as Ed announces final call, and I (and twenty or thirty other women) hold them up proudly at the student, who looks a bit like the sort of maladjusted high school youth who would go around buying panties. Or a bit like the guy who played Wallace in Scott Pilgrim.

He says how he's only going to buy two pairs, and figures the logical pairs would be from [student] for [logical reason] and of course from Katarina [Lastname] because of how we all remember how great she looked last time she was slutty (referring to the fact that I think I came to this particular Rocky showing in jeans and a hoodie.

He brings me away from the counter, around the corner and deeper into the theatre to finalize the transaction, toward a corner with two doors in it --one closed and leading down a dark set of stairs, the other partially open and leading to a plain white room. "Gee, is this where you club me and leave the body?" I say, trying to joke.

"Of course not, my club is in my locker." he jokes back, and I laugh, and step closer, and he lunges all of a sudden, and grabs me, and brings his knee down on my thigh. And I start struggling, and start trying to scream for help, but somehow his weight right there is keeping me from talking and he is trying to kill me and he is going to kill me because I can't get him off me and I can't wriggle free enough to scream and he is choking me now too and goddamnit all I wanted was twenty bucks what the hell.

I wake up before I die, and my overactive imagination promptly points out that I am going to be killed, and he is going to ejaculate on my corpse, because c'mon, what kind of sexually fucked up serial killer would he be if he didn't. And so I get out of bed and walk downstairs and mostly ignore the fact that my body is acting normal for the first time in days in favour of _what the fuck brain what is your problem_.

Because people trying to kill you? Seriously not cool. People trying to kill you for stupid morality-police reasons that I don't know I would ever indulge in anyways? Also seriously not cool, plus makes it closer to one of my "normal" nightmares where I get molested a lot¹. And so that's me right now. Probably going to take an anti-nausea and an antibiotic and go back to bed. At least the couchnightmares just have monsters and I don't remember them in the morning.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: Yeah, I've been having these since at least tenth and possibly ninth grade. They are pretty profoundly unfun, as I usually wake up feeling icky, and sometimes I quite trusted the person in question, in reality and dream. It's the single most depressing dream trope ever, I *much* prefer having insane quantities of superdeliciousfood that I never get around to eating.

Comments

Ugh

[dhs.livejournal.com]

That's a terrible thing to have to go through, dream or not.

*hug*

[zombie-dog.livejournal.com]

:(

boo, dream loser.

[harena.livejournal.com]

Awman, that's horrible! D:

*hugglebugglewuggles muchlymuchly!!*

[ms-hecubus.livejournal.com]

I dream of being murdered quite often. Not usually molested, except for the one time I dreamed my dad molested me. Now, that one was fun. I usually can get past the murder dreams and think of them again because they usually have interesting, vivid plots. The molestation dream I try to never, ever think of and have forgotten most of the details, luckily.