Tag Archives: Fear


Love is terrifying.

In one of those free-association activities in the love yourself heal your life workbook, I recognized my own apprehension to answer certain sections… They have one on men, women, sex, money… Then love. I did the one on love and out of nowhere I donged on me… love is terrifying. Then the blog post from yesterday crept up on me. I’m terrified of being loved because somehow, it’s painful. It’s why I can’t handle being touched.

This makes me so sad… Incredibly sad… Profoundly sad… Sadness.


My Dearest Nightmare


Day 1

To My Dearest Love,

Forgive me if I don’t know where to begin – I’m afraid my thoughts and feelings fall and scatter before me like a summer rain; I welcome and observe with a sense of melancholy what lays before me, but try as I might, I cannot catch them all. I suppose if I might run or dance through them, I may catch more, but in this moment, I need to stand back and observe my thoughts, my feelings, and the sensations that occur. Unlike most, I welcome the storm – I do not fear it, but I suppose you knew this about me already.

Since you’ve set sail for the sea, twice now I’ve attempted too swim, twice now I’ve laced my life with death, twice now I’ve drowned, and twice now I’ve washed ashore to the starting point on the sands below the precipice where we built our home.Be it Odin or Poseidon curse or vengeance towards a goddess who could rival the Gods, I know not, but what I do know is that the emptiness consumes me, the longing embraces me, and this wretched turmoil has been forever immortalized by sonnets and prayers. Of all I’ve had to carry, being the burden barer that I am, this is the one that sits like a boulder within my chest. I imagine the sea beside our home regularly supplied by the tears I’ve shed.. watching… waiting… my blessing is the location that I’m in for the beauty is still distracting. 

Day 2:

I’ve slept on the shores again. As I awoke I caught the sun shining through the cracks of dark clouds, promising the warmth of a new dawn, a new hope, and a new life. The vibrancy of blue casts a spell on this land, enchanting all out of it’s slumber; two doves of white were soaring overhead, one carrying an olive branch… who knew this prison could be so beautiful? The symbolism of the branch however is not lost on me, for perhaps, just perhaps, those doves were messengers of hope. I go now to set the table for two, pray chance you should surprise me at the table.

Evening of Night 2:

My love, I wish you could watch the sun set before me over the ocean – hues of red, and gold, and purples mix into the realm of twilight. Legend has it that demons come pouring forth about this time to lace the world with sorrow and suffering, but I refuse to believe it.

I listened to the pastors sermon today; it was a message of what faith can do if we can just believe. A family had nothing to eat for the holiday of Noel, and the parents had told the children that a feast would come. The children then countered ” but we have not set the table, if we believe that food will come and have faith that God will deliver, then we must set the table.” The rest of the logistics escape me, but someone remembered this family, and delivered a feast for 5 by the afternoon. The irony of this morning is not lost on me, and indeed, the many mornings before… but it becomes a painstaking process the moment I question why you are not here, but my faith so palatable. It was difficult to clear the table and dispose the food… there is something sacred about your chair, as if your aura should have been here. I can’t tell if it brought me comfort or grief, but this home has become a temple for you that I worship from. Oh, how I long to have you near me.

Midnight Hour:

I can’t tell for the life of me if it is morning or night – it’s too dark to know for certain. I just woke up dripping in sweat and tears, the salt of my wound mixing with the salt of the sea. I must calm myself… I must get this emotion out of me. The terror of the night enveloping me in the very same darkness that would hypnotize most to slumber, but instead, the darkness of time betrays me. The scent of you is fading from these sheets of ours, and the longing comes back with a vengeance.

The dream… I must get these fragments down… there was you, maybe 10 years ago, standing above the rose hedges at your grandmothers estate in Darbishire; the sight of you was breathtaking and overwhelming, surpassing the handsome features the country has to offer.I could feel the tears as they pricked against my eyes, and I ran to you, as fast as I could, feeling each step getting harder and heavier with each passing stride… but I made it.Nestled in your warm embrace, the maelstrom of emotions breaks free, and I cry into your chest, banging my fist against you as a child might do.You chuckle, most likely amused by my reaction, and simply hold me, kissing my head on occasion, waiting for my tears to subside. Slowly, things fade away with my eyes closed nestled in your embrace… how much time has passed… seconds… minutes… hours… then panic grips me.

“Shit!” I open my eyes while and find myself plummeting to my knees…. you’re gone, and suddenly I find myself in an ancient forest that hasn’t touched the light of day or the silhouette of the moon for centuries. There’s something in here that threatens my very existence, and I know my life is on the line. Briefly assessing, the woods are somehow gradient mixtures of black and gray with no discernible source of light – dust seems to cover everything, and I’m not sure how any of this is possible. Not a sound exists… no sound is capable of existing here… no wind… no movement… it’s terrifying. There is no life other than the trees which somehow maintain enough energy to block anything from entering this place… or leaving. “I shouldn’t be here, I shouldn’t be here…” 

Suddenly I am running, unable to contain the panic; I know I’m running from something.The darkness closes in again, and the harder I run, the more painful it becomes, and the faster the darkness approaches…


It’s coming…


It’s hard to breathe…


I jolt from my bed, screaming aloud. 

>>>>>>>>>>>(Blah…. too much to write and edit. I’ll be fixing this later… yes I know it’s rough, but this is just copy pasta from my journal I keep in my room anyway.)

History Doesn’t Repeat Itself – It Only Rhymes

This is just killinng me now `

So my first dream was almost the same thing as yesterday; literally. Only differences were it was fragmented and a everything looked tiled in the end just like a mosaic, with blurred red, orange, pink, and gold hues. Still, I was desperate for my son.

THEN I had another one. I was (i guess) living with my mom again, and Grandma was living with us too in this really big nice new home. Very middle class, white, two stories, etc.. My grandmother took me out for a drive that was about 100 miles one way – a little more than an hour long there, and a little more than an hour back. Grandma needed to pick up her Lunesta meds… why lunesta, I dont know, because its not like she was prescribed them anyway. We took the highway for the most part. Scenic mountains and a few random shops trailed the journey there. Somehow Aunt Angie randomly appeared sitting next to me in the front seat of the car. Grandma started playing favorites and got irritated with me, so she sent me to the back of the car. I remember her at one point saying not to hog the seat because it will push Angie too far to the edge of our seat. If the car should flip, she doesn’t want Angie getting hurt. (Odd.)

I moved to the back seat, where 2 out of 3 of Angies kids/my cousins appeared; Ryan and Ashley. I forget what we all talked about, but I remember freaking out now about Syrus. I didn’t tell mom I was leaving so, once again I felt like I had abandoned him and left him all alone. Grandma got annoyed and said it was fine and to stop freaking out – we’ll be back soon.

Finally we were “home.” I ran inside and mom was there in the kitchen. I asked her about Sy and told her I was out with Grandma. She was cool with it and did a good job with the kiddo. I went to see him next. I found my little man, gave him a great big hug, and with that, I woke up.


Dream Analysis Part 2: Role Playing Adventurer

All of this is a reference to Dream Analysis Part 1: Role Playing Adventurer, and my dream entitled Role Playing Adventurer. If you wish to get a better understanding of what I’m talking about, start with the dream, and come back to this.


In the beginning I recognize I’m a heroine collecting perks, upgrades, treasures, and various other items and powers that relate to improving myself. As a hero, I am in control of the adventure of my story. The treasures and upgrades are items that reflect the good in me, or things I wish to improve upon for the better. Again, because I’m an adventurer, this starts off a journey of accomplishments and improvements into the soul. I remember before I was in the frozen wasteland I was adventuring in this amazing green mountain, but didn’t put it in my dream because thats all I could remember, so I felt it wasn’t worth writing down. Everything I collect in this dream is a reflection of wholeness.

From here I’m in the frozen wasteland with very few houses around. This means that emotionally I’ve come to a cold place in my world; perhaps another opportunity or area in my world that needs growth, forgiveness, and insight, but hasn’t happened yet. Because it’s a frozen landscape the ice contributes to this area of my world in which I haven’t grown because it illustrates my own stubbornness to move, or possibly how brittle I am. It shows that somewhere in my world I feel helpless and bleak – all of this suggesting that the reason I’m in this world is because I haven’t made the journey to progress forward. Furthermore the wall of ice I see before me enhances the message in telling me that this inability to move possibly has something to do with my belief systems, attitudes, and/or boundaries I restrict myself too. The wall is supposed to be a protection against fear. The wall of ice itself is white, and so is the majority of the landscape. Personally I have no fear of hospitals or death as it would portray to the color white, so I must assume then that when it comes to a white frozen wall, white is symbolic of spirituality. I’m emotionally stuck in my spiritual life, and the core values contained therein. This is the stage of my dream.

Now in real life this is extremely accurate as I wrestle with who I am and how I identify as a Christian, but moreover, a Seventh-day Adventist. Also, there are a couple of “demons” I wrestle with from the past and that part of my life. I want to go back, but I’m afraid to for many reasons.

Climbing up the wall I remember my siblings being there, but particularly Jamie, my younger brother. I wasn’t going to climb the wall because he couldn’t make the climb, but I did anyway. Once I got up part way to a cliff I looked down which triggered my fear of heights. I want to get down, but can’t.

My brother represents a denied part of me; at this point I’m going to assume it has to do with the Christian side of me which touched on every boundary of my moral code of being, but I have long since denied. In climbing upward I had to leave Jamie, a denied part of me- the Christian me- behind. This created a sense of guilt. This guilt can be two-fold. Perhaps this guilt correlates to people I’ve left behind in leaving the church, or perhaps the conflicts I feel between science and faith. Maybe in becoming a psychologist I’ve denied myself whatever opportunities could have come my way as a member of the church. Maybe upon looking down from the cliff at my Christian self I am claiming a sense of superiority in my education. None of this I am certain, merely speculation at this point. In real life I do however, feel a burden towards the people I let down, especially Verna Emerson. I also feel conflicted in my core values between science and religion. I’m also always looking to justify myself when I reject one and believe the other where the two worlds collide and cannot meet. I may be Christian, but masturbation is not a sin in my book – and I support homosexuals in their choice of lovers. I’d rather be held responsible before God because I allowed others to live their own lives rather than be condemned because someone gay was cutting themselves or crying as a result of something I said or did against them – or worse, I’m responsible for their suicide. Christ never put anyone down in that way, and overall it defies the moral image he portrayed….. “Thou shall not judge.” In the end I just don’t know. I feel split between two worlds – two people, and no balance; always ready for a fight because I believe something different then what the church taught, and how I see the messages of the bible. This is a triad of confusion for me. This may have something to do with the next part then when I head into battle. I know as a Christian I was puffed up, judgmental, and critical of the outside world. Now, I’m on the outside being judgmental towards people within the church by analyzing them with my education, recognizing the incredible amount of low self-esteem the place both breeds and contains. Getting into a “thank you war” is a perfect example. This is my own fault and I know I am wrong for being so harsh and judgmental towards Christianity and the people who follow more closely than I do… but perhaps this is really a reflection of how harsh and judgmental I am towards myself and where I stand on both sides of the fence. This may just be the first time where I catch myself looking inwards by seeing what I project outwards.

For the next part of the dream I came down off the cliff because three wolves appeared. I kicked one, slashed one with the sword, and sent another one flying somehow. I don’t remember how I did it, but I know it had to do with some kind of internal force of power. At the end I felt like a hero, and was really happy for many reasons; the epic jump to overcome my heights, my bravery to attack before they had a chance to touch me or anyone, and my loot thereafter.

The wolves themselves are actually fear reincarnate. They were a triggered physical manifestation to what I was feeling. However, I did feel a sense of pride in overcoming my fear. What I’m confused about is why I needed to come off the cliff and head down in the first place. Why didn’t I keep climbing up that wall? I feel as if overcoming my fear of heights may not be the only element of pride I felt in destroying my fears…. But what else could it be? What is it that I really overcame in that dream. Coming off the cliff of superiority and gaining an essence of humility? In truth I had been working very hard in my moral code of ethics, and humility is one of them. I’m not as judgemental as I use to be. In being defensive and looking to justify myself, I’ve learned how to better communicate who I am and why I feel and think certain things, but the hidden benefit has also been to understand why I felt the way I use to, and why they (the church) feel the way they do now when it comes to what they uphold and believe. I’ve practiced a new element of empathy. It was the backbone to the ministry of Jesus. I’m not as harsh and judgmental as I was, but I still am. Faith versus critical thinking is hard to balance, as is the concept of being in the world – not of the world – versus isolated from the world. Thats what happened. I isolated myself into the church to maintain a deeper level of conformity. I just can’t do that anymore.

Anywho, back to the story. I killed the wolves and was proud to overcome my fear. The sword itself contains multiple meanings because (ironically) the handle of the sword is a cross – a symbolic religious icon. In wielding a weapon in general I turned against myself, but what? Also, the sword represents social power, justice, and transcending strength. Perhaps this is the judgmental element I’m slowly overcoming in learning to accept others for who they are, Christian or otherwise? Even better, this is me learning how to accept myself, Christian or otherwise? I’m purging myself of my less-than-perfect tendencies in killing my fear with a sword. Justice could also refer to the fact that I feel the need to defend myself so much, that my defense is my justice – education. Moving on there was also a gained ability for defeating the wolves, it was a treasure of some kind. Treasure represents the riches of my wholeness – the wonder, wisdom, or value of life. Something I gained as a result of overcoming personal difficulty, such as self-realization or wholeness – wholeness being defined as balancing dry intellectual achievement with deep love, or an introverted personality with outward activity, etc.. Perhaps in knowing my weaknesses better I’ve gained a valuable treasure? What bothers me is the power I obtained was another weapon of ice. Thus far ice has been a bad thing – but white as well.  Also, the weapon wasn’t for my hands, it was for my feet – something I wore over my shoes. Shoes are the image or impression I present to others in my travel throughout life (work, accomplishment, etc.). Perhaps it’s my ability to condemn myself for my conflicting moral values, and how I present myself to others because of it. Hell, I keep 2 facebooks – one for my “christian” me, and one for my secular me. Hardcore athiests and people who can take a dirty joke versus the other extreme. No balance.

Next I know the hoarker/walrus from skyrim emerges from the frozen waters while everyone is praising me. I scream at my sister to run as it emerges, telling her it’s her fault if we all die because I had to save her. She’s holding me back and I don’t want her to get hurt – nor myself. I want to save us all. My brother was there to back me up for the fight, but once the whole thing emerged and stood towering over me, I froze for two seconds, screamed “run,” and took off for the house

Walrus was not a definition I could find, and the ones online didn’t make any sense. Instead I changed it to “monster” which seems okay for the dream, but I’m still uncertain. Anyway, my sister represented an part of myself that is lesser or vulnerable. I felt as if I needed to protect “myself” in this case, but I was hesitant – afraid to move as my sister emotionally. I have no idea what this part of me could be. Perhaps its just who I use to be? Damn… this is such a key element to my dream. I wish I knew what part of me my sister is supposed to represent. Then the monster came. It’s my internal emotions or drives I’m frightened of; dread of death; a monstrous deed done or lie lived; negative relationship with my life energy. I bet you there’s a correlation between my sister in the dream and the monster, but what? Maybe I’m living a lie because of my inability to be who I am – both religious and scientist? Feeling like I have to pick a side? Damn I wish I knew.. then I – “we” took off running. Running away from something is me emotionally trying to run from whatever bad emotions the hoarker/walrus represents. The hoarker came after us, and what started off as a two-story monster shrunk while I had my back turned and managed to get inside. Being attacked by an animal is a representation of introverting ones own aggression, fear of ones own natural urges; anxiety about aggression in oneself or other people; feeling attacked by an external person. The house itself serves as a response to social pressures and criticisms. The house was old looking on the outside, new on the inside. Old beliefs and attitudes are represented by old houses. To dream of a new house represents a new era of your life. The house itself is the transition of the old into the new – as well as the blending of the two. The walrus shrunk, and whatever it’s supposed to be has becoming less threatening or playing a less important part in my life; are seen as connected with the unconscious, aspects  of which often are seen as of “little” significance, yet are  full of the sort of power that motivates or undermines our resolve. Crap. I really wish I could figure this thing out.

Then the monster shrunk, and got into the livingroom where is stayed and lost it’s power and ability to be threatening. I took refuge in the kitchen.

“To dream that you are in the living room indicates how you are as a person and how others perceive the way you live. It is suggestive of your principles and beliefs.”

So whatever the hoarker represents has become less threatening in my world, and as a result of perhaps, learning to be myself is killing the monster within me.

“Creativity; nourishing oneself; mother role, diet. May also refer to pride in the ability to create a home and contribute something valuable to the family. To dream of seeing a kitchen represents a need to nurture your spiritual life.”

So perhaps the link or message in this is that if I better understand myself and nurture my emotional/spiritual needs, whatever it is that troubles me will no longer have/is no longer a threat. The last element I haven’t figured out was when I kicked the walrus and I lost my power – it didn’t hurt it. The ice was gone – and so was the impact of the ice; the ability to be frigid within the livingroom.

Perhaps this a dream simply telling me I’m on the right track?

I hope so.


Teachers of Revenge

I’m going to school, and the school itself has changed. It’s a fusion of my college and my son’s elementary school. Sy has daycare at “our” school now, and its a woman who looks almost the same as his primary teacher, along with a few teachers aids. After I’ve dropped him off in the classroom I turn around after shutting the door and see a loud mouth gossiper who’s my “friend” in this dream. She’s a short older grey haired woman in a darker grey sweater and black jeans. I say hi real quick and walk off to class, but forget where the class is located (I think) and wander back. There’s a door open, and the gossiping woman and my son’s teacher are talking in a closet and the “friend” starts to lie to her, saying how I’ve been telling people that I’ve been working hard in the classroom with my son; So in an effort to “help,” she tells my son’s teacher that I should have a job in the classroom, and possibly take her job. I stop her nonsense talk right then and there in a state of panic and fury, and interrupt them to clarify I never said any of this. All I said was that I volunteered in the classroom once, but wasn’t very helpful at all. As I said this, I looked at the teacher first, and placed my hand on her shoulder to try and validate my point. She was in the classroom, so she would know; then I look at my “friend” and glare at her. She’s embarrassed as fuck, and the teacher is pissed. The teacher stormed out of the closet leaving me upset and worried.

Later I’m in another classroom and I’m forced to stop what I’m doing. I’m bound and gagged by a bunch of women. They held me down, straw in my mouth, and forced me to over dose on cough medicine to try and kill me. It doesn’t work as planed. I pass out, but still breathing, so they send me to a torture room to have me killed in maple syrup  I’m lying on this metal grid with large circles in it, and it starts to raise. Syrup floods the room and starts to boil. I feel uncomfortable and roll over – a little to close to the edge to the point of falling in. Just then I’m rescued by a bunch of other teachers who actually work with the police, figured out “Leanne” – the teacher did it, and am healed back to normal. I give a statement and ask for a follow up report, but it turns out they’re not going to bring her to justice. I was pissed! In the end the police dropped me off outside the school, which is now located somewhere random in the middle of Dover. I realize all that drama made me miss 24 hours of class, but whats worse – where has my son been for the past 24 hours? I freak out and run around looking for him, but to no avail. I walk back to the school to try and find him there but I cant find the school now.  I look for a cop to help me but none of them are out driving.

I’m ready to cry. I miss my son.

I wake up

Autumns Passage of Time

I’m at the SDA church one crisp autumn afternoon. The sun is high in the sky and theres a lot of hustle and bustle. It’s  something thats never really happened before, so it must not have been a Sabbath day. I was 14 because the bachelder girls were there, and they were all quite young. Everyone is preparing for a Christmas program for some weeks out in advance. The Portsmouth Pathfinders have all gathered downstairs and random people are making decorations.  A few people said hi to me here and there – all very light-hearted small elevator chit chat.

Now I’m a bit older, 15, and the sun is bright, though not as high in the sky. I’m sitting in a pew when Molly and Abby come up and sit two pews behind me. They had to try to one up me and snub me in their usual obnoxious fashion by talking about how they’re more christian because their whole family goes to church and holds an important position of authority. They’re loud enough to be heard, and it’s all directed at me cause they keep staring at me, but they don’t actually speak too me. I refuse to acknowledge their presence. Abby was more or less leading the charge with Molly snickering in agreement. In the end I remain physically passive and maintain the appearance of having brushed it off. Gaining no satisfaction from me they leave and then I move.

I’m sitting in the front row closest to the piano with a few kids who are all practicing some Christmas song. The microphone gets passed down, one by one, everybody singing their lines. Finally it’s my turn. I think it was Charlotte playing the piano for me. I screwed up the song and tripped over my tong until I forgot the lyrics. All I could do was hum the remainder, and everyone heard it over the microphone. When it was over I embarrassingly got up and started to walk out. Only a few people were in their seats; everyone else was cleaning and prepping the church… Jehovah Witness style (for those who don’t know Jehovah Witnesses get together once a year to scrub the church top to bottom with refreshments laid out for everyone.) I’m almost completely out of the room when I turn my head to the right and look out the second to last window. I admire at how beautiful everything looks. Cars are parked in the lot without a single space left. The sun is setting more and more, and the light glistening over the glass of the cars. Autumn leaves of red and gold are scattered everywhere, and provide a painted backdrop of trees in the background… and theres even a gentle breeze that rustles the trees. Very cinematic the way it looked. Autumn in New England was at it’s prime.

Then I noticed something…. or rather, someone. My heart lurched into my throat as Jay came out of his moms grey dodge from the front passenger side. He was holding some kinda dish in a clear tupperware container with a blue lid. I turned my head and walked out just as he was rounding the front of the car. By the front door I pause for a moment at what I’d just seen and contemplate what I should do. I age another year as I make my way downstairs with tension setting in. At the bottom of the stairs I’m 16 years old. There’s still the same flurry of activity, but he hasnt come in. I walk out to the back door and wonder where Adam is, half expecting him to stalk me, then I look for Jay. I walked outside and around the back of the church, ageing another year again – 17 years old. The sun is almost gone by now, and the sky becomes cloudy and cold.

Finally I found him sitting on the swings. I wanted to join him, but I know he didn’t want to hang out with me – he’d take off running again. It was our place, our special place almost. Hours of church time wasted just chatting the day away. He always sat on the seat to the right; the left was there for me. No one had taken it. Suddenly I see his dad, Peter, as he walks past me, exposing where I thought I was safely hidden. He approaches his son and they have a brief conversation. Peter doesn’t seem too thrilled, and Jay’s affect subtly changes. I assumed he was warning Jay of my presence. Peter takes off and I slowly creep forward, waging an internal war within myself. Should I say hi? Will he run away? Will I be scolded? Oh how I wanted to say hi. Then he gets up and is momentarily gone from my sight as cars start to pull up in front of the swings and leave, blocking my field of vision… one of them was the gray dodge. My heart leaps into my throat as panic sets in, afraid he’s going to leave before we’ve even laid eyes on each other. That’s all I wanted at the very least is for him to acknowledge my presence; to know that we were walking the same damn terra firma. I’m alive and I am here. Please stop acting as if I’m dead. I am alive and missing you – though living in fear of you now.

I bolt from where ever I was hiding and march to the swings, just barley running; my resolve to see him was firm. Carpe diem seemed to scream through my head… then there he is. He’s on the swing again; his head hangs low as he grabs onto each of the metal chainlinks supporting him. He’s wearing a dark gray t-shirt, blue cargo jeans, and some slightly worn-in brown hiking shoes. He’s shaved, and his hair is still as brown and messy as ever. The sigh of him was….. intoxicating, for lack of a better term, but he’s also…sad? Apprehensive? I don’t know. I momentarily froze while drinking him in. The sun has set now and all thats there is a dim blue and heavy gray sky thats dark, but not 100% dark. It starts to flurry I think. Now that I’ve been exposed from where I was watching, I can no longer go back to hiding. What will he say? What will he do? Will he ignore me and run? Will he allow me to sit beside him? I’ve aged one final time, I’m 18, and he’s an adult too. Because of my own apprehension as I get closer,  panic courses through my veins. My dream fades to black from the edges and slowly getting closer to him. The harder I run to him, the darker it gets. Finally he’s out of sight.


I wake up to a pounding heart and covered in sweat. I was holding my breath while sleeping again.

I Dream of Fears

Lately I’ve had few and fleeting dreams. I remember but glimpses into my unconscious mind. I dream of fears.

I dreamt my brother scolded me and made me feel like an awful parent. In real life my brother commented how my son doesn’t seem to nap much at present, and it’s true. I leave my son in his crib and let him have some time to himself, as well as to myself, because I need a moment to breathe, and I don’t think it’s a bad idea to either let him nap if he’s tired or relax in the crib. I know when I was a kid we had nap time in school, and if we didn’t fall asleep it was fine, but we still had to lie down. It was still considered beneficial to relax and recoup before the next part of our schooling, so I tend to see it like that. My son however gives me these 50/50 moments where I feel like I’m punishing him if I put him in his crib, when I’m not. I feel guilty to hear him cry, but frustrated if I dont get a moment to myself. Nevertheless, One of the few fleeting dreams I had involved my brother accusing me of being a neglectful mother, and it was heart breaking.

The next one also involved my son, but my dad as well. He was accusing me of being Autistic, just like my son. He said he suspected it because if he has it, and my son has it, then I must have it too. Being a therapist was irrelevant because it could just point to a higher level of intelligence from having an autistic mind, and the fact that I’m an empathetic individual was irrelevant, despite the fact that there is a general disconnect of empathy with autistic minds. I know I’m not autistic, and again it was another fleeting dream, but it makes me wonder what my fears really are and how dark they can truly be.

Last one (of course) was based off the fifty shades novels. I dreamt about getting to know Christian, Ana, and Dr. Flynn. Grace may have been in it at one point, but I dont remember. I know we were at Escala, but that was about it. Then it kept switching to me reading about them in the book, only these things never happend in the book, so I ended up dreaming about WRITING a spin off the fifty shades series! That dream just kept switching between reading, writing, and seeing what was happening in my minds eye… it was so strange, but it left me struck with awe as well.

I dont know what to make of any of this, but at least I got it down.

Death by the Joker: Nightmare

FINALLY IT WORKS! I’ve been trying to get a fucking blog up and WordPress is so good at making it NOT work for me! I bring up the page, it loads, and it wont let me type anything. You’re lucky my love for you has become an addiction or I’d rape your programmable ass. The other big error I get is 324. Fucking hell…

Anywho, this IS a dream blog. I haven’t seen the new batman movie and yes, I’m aware of the tragedy that unfolded in Colorado (rest in peace.) It was awful but I’ve been keeping at a distance from it because of how intense the whole thing is. When children become victims I cant take it. Never the less, I had a horrifying nightmare about the Joker that left me trembling for 15 minutes after I woke up. I’ve never been so scared like that from a dream in my life. I warn you now: it’s bad.

I was a detective in this New York looking urban area. The chief had been following the latest strings of crime from the Joker and noticed he was kidnapping women and murdering them, only to allow their bodies to be found and purposefully making the kidnappings predictable so he can BE followed. I was assigned to his case to figure out if he was going to be where the chief suspected, who he’s targeting, why, and to have a team ready once he made his move.

Moments later I found myself in a train station below the city, tracking the joker. He was in that nurse outfit from the dark night with the face paint all by himself, waiting for the next train to unload it’s passengers. I was waiting at a distance behind a concrete support-beam to watch what unfolds. A train passes, and a group of people get off to the right, not knowing the Joker was right there. People randomly walk by him as he randomly licks his lips, twitches, paces back and forth with his head down, and finally, he snatched someone. She was this completely random thin woman in heals and a black business skirt and coat. She screamed and struggled to get away. Next thing I see is a crowd of people walking by just long enough to let me see her escape, but not see where the Joker ran too. Next thing I see is his arm wrapped around my neck and he’s dragging me off. Captured.

I found myself in a middle class suburban house in a completely innocent and unsuspecting neighborhood. I was paralyzed with fear, and knew that in order to live, I needed to do as he says, play into his schemes, or come up with better ideas for him if it meant being able to escape for even a moment. What happened next was horrifying, and I never would have thought I could have uttered such a thing in fear to preserve my life. I’m lying on the couch waking up to find him hovering near me. He looks at me and say’s “Oh good, you’re up. Put this inside of you between your legs.” It was a remote detonated bomb what was definitely bigger than I could fit. I knew if I told him no he’d kill me, and the only thing I could say was that I needed lube or I couldn’t get it in. He pulls out this already open and rolled out condom and shakes violently as he puts lube inside the condom. Then he throws it on the coffee table and paces back and forth while having this paranoid schizo episode, mumbling under his breath about trying to create the next plan using me since the bomb idea wasn’t going to work.

I get up from the couch and look towards the door. Its open and unlocked, except for the screen door in front of it which is really easy to open. On the Jokers possession was a switch blade he could easily attack me with, or throw it straight at me should I try to run. I was trapped and scared like a mouse in a corner, knowing this cat was about to fucking murder me. He started verbally planning about cutting me open and inserting a bomb to send me off with, and he had no medical equipment, which means he was going to do it with me alive and bleeding everywhere. I tried to suggest something less painful like strapping a bomb to me and walking me out into public, but I couldn’t take it. I was going to die and there was nothing I could do no matter how hard I tried.

I woke up trembling all over, horrified at what I had said for the sake of avoiding death for even a few minutes. He didn’t kill me, but that doesn’t change the aftershock….


Thinking back as long as I can remember, I have always had this awful fear of spiders. Prior too living in Florida, I dont remember being so afraid of them, but it’s awful. There were two massive banana spiders (aka: tarantulas)that had spun a web and lived by the shed. They are black and yellow striped and very venomous. The only other tarantula I remember seeing thereafter was a massive black hairy one that drowned in soapy water that the dishes were soaking in.

This all leads into a dream that, just like my dreams of drowning, starts off different but ends the same.

I was a child, somewhere between 6 and 8 years old, and living with my brother and dad in an apartment. The room was well lit with white walls and a sliding glass door. I remember some event happening… something small but bad. I dont know if it was my ball being thrown behind the couch or my brother falling behind it, but what I do remember was needing to go behind the couch myself. I leaned over against the back of the couch for whatever reason it was, and I fell to the floor. The next thing I know I saw spider webs and dust (because most people dont see a need to clean behind it). Then one spider was crawling on me, then two…. the more time passed and I frantically panicked to get out from behind the couch, the more spider came after me. Then red and black centipedes started to join the mix. They were all biting me…. hard. It hurt so bad. I cried and screamed and kicked, but I just couldn’t get up. Climbing back up to get over the couch just wasn’t an option. I was too small and couldn’t reach.

Finally after what felt like forever of being chewed and attacked by spiders, I woke up.

Needless to say this isn’t my favorite dream.