Wednesday, February 29, 2012

An evening of Subconcious Cinema...

<Dream from last night.>

I was attending some theater performance. It was at a place where I was familiar like a school. In part this production was a ruse to keep me in one place. Someone was searching for me with the intent of killing me.  Somehow I knew this.

I exited the building when many people were leaving. I did my best to avoid attracting attention as I walked with people, getting lost in the crowd, to the road. When I finally got to the road I realized I’d need a ride to get away, to get anywhere. One man (whom I worked with) saw me but didn’t have his care yet so just waved. Another in a yellow jeep, pulled up and told me to get in.


I was outside of the theater/school in an outdoor courtyard. I could see the ocean from where I was. There was a person there. Tall. Shadowed. Boring-Ex was there as well. The tall figure was holding a gun/rifle. I got the gun and intended to use it if need be. Boring-Ex came back to me and handed me a very lovely seashell. I felt like this was some kind of peace offering for me to remember good times. I saw a few other whole, and very lovely seashells on the ground. Picked them up and put them to the side of the courtyard. Something happened and I knew my life was in jeopardy. I shot Boring-Ex in the forehead. I took off. Somewhere I lost the gun.

I went back into the building. I was in a back dressing room/bathroom/classroom area. There were a ton of people milling around. I tried to sneak behind a back wall to hide and remain unnoticed by anyone passing through. Someone saw me and I knew it wouldn’t stay safe. As I was pushing my way out, someone else that was looking out for me pressed a small revolver into my hand because I had lost my larger gun. I would lose this too. He also gave me a utility style knife (like a swiss army knife will all the pull out things). One of the people that was looking at me was a thin blonde woman.  Every second I stayed where I was I felt the impending confrontation coming closer and closer. I ran through rooms, pushing through people, squeezing through the most unlikely exits to get someplace I couldn’t be tracked or found. No matter where I went I was never safe for long.

I finally got to one area. I walked up stairs. There were a lot of people standing in the hall and stairway. I opened the door and it was a dance studio; bright lights, hardwood floor, ballet rail, wall of mirrors. I ran to the other side and ducked into a utility closet. The blonde woman, in an attempt to disguise herself did herself up in some pretty tacky make-up and an obvious, yet still blonde, wig. I knew she was coming and started fumbling with the utility knife. All the pull outs were useless things though; spoon, nail file, corkscrew,… finally I opened something that passed as a dull short knife. She found me, we struggled, and I stabbed her. Deliberately on the front. She fell on her stomach. I stabbed her twice more. Once in the back of the neck. I recall the hesitation before each time, but the certain need of it too, and the exact amount of pressure that was required to break the resistance of her skin. As she lay on the ground in front of me, the man that I was really running from, approached. Tall, broad, bald, like a hit man thug.

I don’t remember anything else, only that there was a lot of other stuff going on. It was also striking just how many people were constantly surrounding me. I don’t recall ever having a dream that was so consistently overwhelmed by other people.


To dream that you are in or part of a crowd suggests that you need some space for yourself. You need solitude to reflect on a situation and recharge your energy. Consider also the familiar phrase of "going along with the crowd" which implies conformity and lack of individuality. Perhaps you feel that your own opinion doesn't count or matter. Alternatively, dreaming of a crowd means that you need to incorporate the various aspects of the crowd into your own persona.

To see seashells in your dream represent security and protection. You are not showing your true self or real feelings. In protecting yourself from getting hurt, you are also becoming reclusive and emotionally closed off.

To see a gun in your dream represents aggression, anger, and potential danger. You could be on the defensive about something. Or you may be dealing with issues of passiveness/aggressiveness and authority/dependence. Alternatively, a gun is a symbol of power and pride. Perhaps you are looking for shelter or protection in your dream. From a Freudian perspective, a gun represents the penis and male sexual drive. Thus, the gun may mean power or impotence, depending on whether the gun went off or misfired.

(If guns are a normal part of your life than this interpretation may not be accurate and merely a reflection of something you are involved with often.)

To dream that you shoot someone with a gun denotes your aggressive feeling and hidden anger toward that particular person. You may be trying to blame them for something.


To dream that you stab someone indicates your fear of betrayal and your untrusting nature. You are being overly defensive.

I may be a little defensive. Yes. And probably more than a little untrusting. I'm still unsure of what the crowding of people around me means though. I'm not overly crowded in my life. Though I am very overwhelmed right now.

<Dream 2>

This weekend I also had a dream that I was fighting as Sith. The Sith I was fighting used a double bladed staff like Darth Maul. I remember laughing in my mind because I had dual shoto and he didn’t stand a chance. Which he didn’t. I killed him. I knew this would end badly for me when I was discovered though. I ran back to my apartment to gather my things so I could take off. My bathroom had two stalls. One for my roommate (who was Buffy) and the other with all my shower supplies. For whatever reason Buffy was having sex in my shower with her boyfriend. I took a quick shower, grabbed one of her towels, and finally had to kick them out of my shower stall so I could get my stuff. As dropped the towel on top of my bench. At that moment the FBI/police walked in. One of them grabbed the towel and told them to analyze it for blood. Surely that was what I’d used to wipe my light sabers clean. What? In my mind I was laughing because who the fuck wipes a light saber blade clean? It’s vaporize whatever you were ‘cleaning’ it with instantly.  They determined that since my towel was clean I must not have killed the other guy. They left. There was something about mens shoes. I took off.

My brain is bizarre. And more than a little geektastic.

Monday, February 13, 2012

30 Seconds Changes It All

WARNING: Sexual violence.
This weekend was wonderful. Until it wasn’t.
Friday was a very mellow night. I was happy with that.
Saturday I woke up early, got dolled up and headed over to Tech Boys. It was his birthday and we were supposed to take a ferry out to Connecticut for the day. Unfortunately after a very long drive, when we got to the docks we found out that the ferry was no longer running “for the winter”. The website said nothing about this and specifically said that it was running special times for the next couple weekends. Tech Boy was really disappointed. I dropped him back off at his place and we resolved to do something else later. I felt terrible though I know this was not my fault and wanted to make sure he had a great evening. He came over around 6:30p and we went out for a really nice Steakhouse dinner and grabbed a few drinks. He is having a joint birthday celebration with his sister in a couple weeks. He wants me to come out, meet his sister, and a bunch of his friends. I thought that was a great idea.
Afterwards, we came back to my apartment and hung out with Roommate and her boyfriend. I had gotten Tech Boy some specialty craft beers which he promptly demolished as the evening evolved. We talked a lot, laughed, started to watch a movie, snuggled. He was uncharacteristically affectionate in front of Roommate and her boyfriend. He’s not really one for overt amounts of public displays of affection but he was happy to wrap his arms around me, tilt my head up to kiss my lips, and just randomly kissed the top of my head occasionally while giving me an extra squeeze here and there.
We kept drinking. He drank a lot.
Eventually I could tell it was getting on ‘frisky’ time so I moved our part of the evening into my bedroom. I pushed him down on the bed and proceded to tear his clothes off. Things got hot and heavy as they usually do for a couple hours. Things were a little sloppier than usual because he was so drunk, but I didn’t really care. It’s his birthday so I figured whatever, sex is pretty much just for fun anyways. We also have a tendency to get a bit rough, which is something I usually enjoy. I have very few sexual boundaries.
One thing I cannot deal with; one boundary I do have – I do not allow being hit, especially in the face. I will not stand for it. He violated that boundary. It had never happened before, with anyone (not in a sexual setting anyways). He was so drunk, and things were occasionally clumsy that the first time it happened I honestly thought it was an accident and he just caught my cheek funny. It wasn’t very hard. The second time I was in momentary shock. The third time it happened I pushed him back and told him if he ever hit me in the face again I’d rip his dick off.  I meant it. He believed me. This happened probably over the course of 20-30 seconds, maybe less. He immediately got off of me, laid back, pulled me close, wrapped his arms tight around me, and passed out. I was livid. Furious. And trying to hold back the tears, which was the most frustrating of it all. I wanted to kick his ass out of my apartment and watch him freeze in the cold, but he was passed out flat and I couldn’t do anything at all. I didn’t see that coming.  I knew this was a sexual fantasy he’d had.  He had mentioned it very briefly once, but I had told him that was never ok. That was it. He was SO drunk I’m not even sure he remembers it happened. I remember. I’m so hurt. How do I trust him after that? I just laid there shaking in fury, confusion, and sadness.
I went from enjoying a mutually pleasing, and steadily evolving relationship to fighting back a wrath and sadness I never expected. Big changes happen so fast. My entire perception of him changed in one drunken instant.
We woke up. We had sex a couple times as if nothing unusual happened though I couldn’t look at him. I made a huge breakfast of my special old fashioned buttermilk waffles, sausage, and home-style hash browns for us, Roommate, and boyfriend. He stayed late as we all sat around chatting. Eventually he left. I went to the gym, took a nap, made dinner, and generally avoided thinking about it. Until I lay down to go to sleep and had nothing but blackness and room for my thoughts.
This is often how I work. I suppress. I avoid. I seethe internally. I continue on as if everything is normal until I’ve had a chance to process.
When I was younger I would have exploded instantly. I’ve completely turned 180 degrees from acting out to acting in/not at all. Neither is appropriate. Neither is healthy.
I need to talk to him. I’ve resolved to do that. I can’t see him again; I certainly can’t sleep with him again, until we talk this thing out. This may be the end of him though.
That’s a lot of loss for one week.
It shouldn’t even be a question. I should end it. Shouldn’t I? I just, don’t know how to think this way. I feel like I need to give him a chance to explain if he even can. I can’t help thinking that if it happens once, what’s to stop it from happening again. Especially if he’s drunk, can’t remember, and wasn’t ‘in control of his own actions’, then there’s really no predicting the problem. That’s dangerous. I’m not afraid of him. I don’t get drunk enough that I can’t defend myself. Not after the time Evil-Ex tried to kill me. But I’ve been in that place before. I’m not going to let the potential for that to happen again. But this wasn’t an angry he hates me for destroying his manipulative games kind of thing like it was for Evil-Ex. This was a sexual fantasy, while mentally hurtful, wasn’t physically hurtful as much as it was shocking. I don’t think he would ever hit me or hurt me ‘for real’. This was still a major violation of one of the very few boundaries that is important to me. It’s absolutely disrespectful. I do feel violated. My mental safety especially was violated. That’s not ok. No one has the right to do that. He doesn’t know about Evil-Ex, or any of that, but that shouldn’t matter.
I’ll talk to him. See what he has to say. Then decide. I guess. Am I going about this right? Should I even give him a chance to explain? I just don’t know. Simply acting would be so much easier. Trying to reason my way through things is hard, but it’s healthier, right?

Saturday, February 4, 2012

She Walks in Beauty

This is the poem one of my exes decided to send me for my Birthday a few days ago. I'm glad we've managed to stay friends.

George Gordon, Lord Byron

She Walks in Beauty

She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!