Nov 16, 2012

The Strangest Dream - How Much Better Does It Get?

Here it is, nearly 4:30 am as I write this. I recently awoke from the strangest dream, unable to get back to sleep and not really feeling as if I need to anyway. I've started a new mantra of saying, “How much better does it get?” instead of worrying about how much worse it can get and it seems the shift in thinking has my brain telling me some previously unrealized information. (Thanks for the mantra, Eli Rook.) I highly recommend using this new phrase.

In my dream, I find myself walking around a strange town looking for work. At one point I notice a particular character following me as I go from business to business, where I ask them if they need window-cleaning services. As I leave each place, this character is outside of each place, just waiting.

As I go through the town I cut across a muddy field to get to another business strip. But along the way, this character finally approaches and somehow tricks me into his home. (Ever notice how in dreams you sometimes do stupid crap for no explainable reason? Oh DMT. You are such a trickster.) In his home, I find myself a prisoner and being physically assaulted. At first, there's only this one character. Three others show up later but we'll get to that.

This first guy somehow has me down on the floor and even though he's obviously weak, he's doing his best to beat me. I'm not really scared – more hesitant to hurt him than anything since he's obviously pretty weak. But after I've had enough I find myself fighting back. With his next punch I grab each of his arms and just snap them. Then I grab him and bite him on his lateral abs, just beneath his ribs (Yeah, because that's how I roll in the non-dream world too, don't ya know. LOL!)

He immediately begins protesting, asking me why I'm hurting him. As if I'm wrong somehow for defending myself against a wannabe violent, sadistic kidnapper. I give him one more solid punch right in his whiny mouth with every ounce of strength I can muster - all the rage I can summon. He disappears immediately and I am again calm.

Next, three of his associates/friends enter the room. Two of them are silent but supportive of the third who is very obviously an “authoritarian” sort. I come to realize in my dream (while still not realizing this is all a dream) that, just like the authoritarian type represents those who like to bark out orders and be obeyed, the other two represent the passive/aggressive coward types you can almost always find orbiting around dominant personalities.

The authoritarian type tries to keep me sitting in the bath-tub. (Bear with me. Remember, this is a dream. How I ended up in the tub makes no sense to me either. Odd things happen in dreams.) I tell him, “Come on man. I gotta take a dump.” (Forgive me for that image please. Dream, remember?) He says, “Alright. You can get up for number 2.” (This is when I realize that this is something stemming from childhood, rooted to abusive personalities I encountered back then. Why else would the "number 2" reference be used?)

But in getting up, I decide to go ahead and fight. (This is where it gets really strange. If you have a weak stomach, quit reading now. I mean right now. Stop. Go away. Okay, you've been warned.) Since there are three of them, I have to use what's available. Being, somehow, in the nude and weaponless (Not even a towel-bar on the wall – oh they make lovely weapons) I decide to use what I have available – feces, as disgusting as that sounds.

I smear it all over my body to be as offensive and as distractingly disgusting as possible. I then tell the three, “I'm leaving. Don't try to stop me. The first one of you who does – no matter what else happens to me – I'm taking him out. This will be that man's last few breaths. I promise you. Who's it going to be to die today?” They leave me alone and I make my escape, naked, covered in feces, but glad to be free. This is when I wake up.

I see all sorts of symbolism in this. Of course, we have the emotionally manipulative. They attack and then try to use “guilt” as a defense to discourage defense. I'm guessing I first encountered this one since I recently shook off a false friend who used emotional manipulation to control the behavior of others. Thanks Drew, for helping me realize what I must.

The extreme measures to fight off the authoritarian and his pets (Yes, you passive/aggressive types who play sycophants to your authoritarian masters are little more than pets to them. Let that thought sink in you fucking loser wimps. Haha) came from the knowledge that they fight dirty and always out-number their targets. Covering myself in feces is my way of realizing I might have to make myself look bad in order to defeat them/escape. But it's worth it. I'd rather look bad to others who don't know the back-story than to take one more goddamned second of abuse. In my waking life, I'm not sure if authoritarians and abusers have any clue what's in store for them the next time they ever try fucking with me or any of my friends ever again.

The emotionally manipulative, the passive/aggressive and the authoritarian abusers have held me captive for a long time. At 42, I see now that I've been subjected to their sadism all of my life. Family, “friends,” random strangers, all of them have done me wrong for no other reason than that I let them. Ultimately, I'm responsible for my own abuse because like the first character, I followed them thoughtlessly into their den.

I will enjoy the crocodile tears of the emotionally manipulative. The authoritarian will find their abuse shoved back in their fat faces and they will never lay another of their ham-fists on me again, figuratively or literally. As for their little sycophant fucking pussy friends? They'll not only get a fight out of me, I'll show those cowards what embarrassment and shame is all about. I'm liking this new me. It's about time I came along. How much better does it get? We shall see.

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