Waking from a night of dream so
Weird, how everything in life can change yet the nightmares continue. When I was little they assumed it was a phase. I knew it was fear based, even then, and there was little confusion as to what was causing the fear. I was still in the situation so it seemed natural that the nightmares continued. When I was gone from that life and on my own I dreamed of terrible things but then, I was homeless and unloved. People aren’t wired to belong nowhere…we’re pack animals by instinct; we look to other humans when we are lost and we are preprogrammed to seek out the faces of our own kind. To be alone, surrounded by people who don’t know or care for us is one of the loneliest and most unnatural states we find ourselves in…..and it happens to most of us at some point in life unless we’ve been blessed with strong family ties and loving friends. I couldn’t come to terms with being something less than human out there. It didn’t make sense why everyone else my age had a bed to sleep in and a family to love them (mind you, that was not the case judging from the hundreds of homeless kids I met out there, many much younger than I). It felt that way though, like I was the only one who didn’t deserve love. The nightmares then we’re not about monsters and captivity, wars and total destruction, but we’re about dying alone. I used to dream that I couldn’t breathe and no matte how many people I found, none would help me. I recall dreams of dragging myself on my belly through the front doors of the emergency room only to be told that same line I heard so often in life.
“Hey! You! You don’t belong here. No loitering…this is for real humans, not the likes of you.”
Of course they didn’t see me as less human but certainly less important in the human ranking system people have in their heads. You know the one. “Don’t give that one money, he will just spend it on booze or drugs.” The alcoholic down the street who beats his kids, we’ll HE is struggling…maybe had a hard life, I mean don’t fire him for heavens sakes….let’s put him in rehab, paid for with city money and then give him his job back even thought he will likely reoffend. But THAT human, the one on the corner with the ratty blanket who looks as if he hadn’t seen the inside of a shower for a month or ten, yeah. He obviously doesn’t deserve a hand. Fuck him and his desire to numb at least one night of his miserable existence with a cheap bottle of rye. Mind you, when you’ve not eaten for a week the last thing you want is booze but whatever. Let’s just ignore that and make sure the humans we want to help are saved. That, right there, was the theme of my dreams for those years.
Now I’m about as far from that as one can get in life the dreams are the same. There’s some fear from the past mixed in with being deemed worthless by my fellow humans for those years. The thankfulness i feel at being alive comes exclusively to me when I am awake, never in my sleep.
I am in constant pain no one can fix and the drugs I need to take to be out of pain make me fall asleep. As it is, only taking one third of my dose each day leaves me so exhausted I can’t seem to make it beyond five pm. Not sure which way is better. The job lay off fucked me right up and the drama in my head intensified with the burning failure that came with the job loss (I know in my heart that they got rid of me because they didn’t like me and wanted rid of me no matter what the paperwork says). But now I have a job, a secure one and although I have to leave a place I thought I was happy (making all my work mates unhappy and start treating me like the like me less) and that carries it’s own weight but still….I understand those dreams. It’s the ones like last night that confound me.
I was in a dire situation with hundreds of other people. We had been on a trip of some sort…and adventure that we had all been looking forward to for some time. It was supposed to be hectic and dangerous feeling…like watching a movie filled with horror and gore…a step outside reality that felt unsafe and scary but with a soft landing where we could all walk away unscathed.
I had been there before, enough times to be able to warn my fellow travellers, in fact, I took on the role of a host. I went ahead in the game and would warn people of what was about to happen. It was a shocking place, I knew too well, and sometimes people were affected by the outcome…affected as in killed. I was effectively running around saving lives, however it wasn’t out of some sense of duty or honor…inside my head I couldn’t have cared less. I was almost giddy at times, right before the hit..the shocking twist in the plan. I watched peoples horrified faces with a sort of delight. It didn’t feel good though, not now, no then. The guilt was a constant hum in the background.
The scenes played out before me in memory before they happened and I would be able to get there in time….to the next person it was about to happen to. I would quickly tell them who I was and what was coming and hoped it helped soften the blow somehow. There wasn’t any reward for me though. I just ran, reported and hoped it would be enough to help.
We got to the end of the game and I was left with a bunch of people who had made through and we all sort of turned toward the exit, arranged jackets and handbags and such, then formed a single file line like we were at a movie theatre, and walked out the door to the parking lot and got in our cars, squinting in the sunlight, trying to avoid each other’s gazes.
It was so awkward, I woke blushing.. My ears were even on fire and blazing red.
Sorry….I’m not sure this post made much sense. I just woke up and I’m all messed up in the emotions of it. I’m feeling responsible for these people. Maybe I’ll go make a donation to the food bank today. Certainly won’t hurt.