Thursday, June 7, 2018
is it the same day ?
How did it devolve into this?
I was going to tell you about the dreams I had last night, but a whole day has passed... I already cussed myself so you don't have to.
But the day... the night before last night, I had a dream where I giggled, then laughed- almost laughed myself awake. I remember myself laughing uncontrollably out loud in the middle of the night. I have never had a dream like that. I wasn't laughing because I was happy, it's only because something funny happened. That is all before, of course, it turned into a nightmare.
It's amazing how I've forgotten exactly what's in those dreams. How does it work, Diary? The only thing I'm certain is, from the dreams (2) I had last night, something has become clear. Oh wait I remember! Look! Look. It's this nature history museum in Netherlands or West Germany, and there was this large, green parrot on display. It's live but its beak is crooked. Everyone knows the parrot talks, right? And somehow I got it out of the glass-paneled room that housed it, I put it on this old branch of an indoor tree, and we started talking. I was really surprised by how intelligent the parrot was. It seems I'd visit it every week and it would recognize me. And I don't exactly remember the exchange but at the end of the conversation the parrot said something really human-like... something like "you've been visiting me every week to watch me grow up, now I get to see you every week and watch you grow old." I don't know, it might sound off now but it was heart warming at the time.
But then when the museum was closing- I don't know why I stayed in a dark museum but I had doubt in my head like I was questioning the parrot being too human-like, so I hid behind the wall and listened in on staff's conversation. There were two of them and one of them was 16-17, and he said to the older dude: "it was me all-along, she doesn't know it yet."
Then I showed myself asking why he did that. So to be clear the parrot didn't say anything. It was the 16 or 17-yo who hid somewhere and parroted the parrot to talk to me. Then this young fellow said "it's because I like you, of course" and I believed him. And very quickly he turned on me. You know not to ask anything about dream logic by now. Anyway, what happened next was we had to take the elevator down and leave the building before something terrifying go down. And we went down and when the door opened, we found ourselves in this filthy. FILTHY Vietnamese or some other Southeast Asian restaurant set in... on a rundown street in Hong Kong, and he just abandoned me there. The one thing I remember most clearly about that place was the grease. Good God - everything, EVERYTHING was covered in grease. Thick, filthy, browning grease- even on the people. And the museum curator/staff/dude just took off.
And in the second part of the dream, or the second dream if you will- dad got involved somehow and made things worse. He also ruined the good dream I had the night before. I woke up today certain of the fact that I don't want to see him again. I realize- I always knew but it's refreshed that all my distrust in men originates from dad and his side of the family. I woke up today having figured out why I couldn't cry about grandfather 1's death- because he despised me like dad. I remember waking up asking myself "What sort of man would gain pleasure from beating the shit out of his own little girl?" To be honest, I never thought I'd get over how abused I was as a kid, but I thought I'd forget about it some day, and I have, in his absence. But to forgive? I just realized I shouldn't, and I won't. I vowed so many times as I stood there trying to swallow my tears and shame. I won't.
But this really defined my attitude towards men. That's the one thing I learned from all of these dreams. A nightmare can have many sources, of course, but I'm telling you.
Just a few hours ago I thought of a speech I will have to make one day. I could foresee the profound bemusement people will have - or it's just my own imagination - when I tell them how much in love my parents were, and just as they thought I had a perfect family, I tell them their love is based on my pain. They were a team and they cooperated in torturing me. Being an innocent child, or perhaps just being stupid, I saw that and was glad my parents are getting along. I put their needs before my own well being, for some reason. Perhaps that's the first sign I'm God's Saint. I'm leaning toward stupidity.
No. I'm just an oridinary child. I mean I was. I know very well I'm not alone in this. I know very well very many others have had bad dreams. But this is my realm, my own, for now. All you have to care about is me, Diary. These dreams... they actually affect me, no less than actual things that take place in day time. I don't wish I can memorize every dream so vividly as some. Oh God.
I'm unwell, Diary, but doing well. I'm well and unwell at the same time. Always. Almost always. I saw my fate that much more clearly in the past few days. I wonder if it happens to other people, too. I suppose it does. Sometimes you just see. Life is an arc and that's why I always said I won't judge anyone until they're dead. But with me, I have to do better than that. I don't know, Diary. I just mean, all we rely on is a beginning, a middle and an end. For everything. I know the sources of my nightmares, I know how it felt like and I know what conclusions I draw. Does that mean the nightmares will end? I don't think so. So every night I go to bed, I suffer. To no end.