I have hardly slept the last 2 nights thanks to my cat. My dreams are odd to say the least and my body and mind are suffering the consequences of this disturbed sleep.
The other night I dreamt that I lived in a nunnery and someone stole my knickers off the washing line. I kept saying to Andrew, the next day, ‘who dreams that sorta shit?’ And then like a thunder clap headache, it hit me this morning, whilst sitting on the loo; someone who’s innocence was taken from them, that’s who!
Dreams hold some meaning and relevance in our waking lives, I’m convinced. So many times now I have had a dream that didn’t make sense and then sometime later something resurfaces and I’m like ‘that makes sense now!’ I mean, if a dream has enough impact on me for me to remember it, years later, it often links to a traumatic experience I have since been ignoring or even repressing completely.
This happened before my assault by 2 other kids came up, it come up before I decided to tackle head on the abuse by my friends father and I am now seeing that the weird dream that frightened me so much before my holiday last year, is probably a massive link to the big one; the big thing I don’t want to believe or even think about.
Part of me hopes I am very wrong but the other part of me already knows deep inside the worst case scenario already happened. It makes a lot of sense why I get such a bad body flare around that person too.
I don’t want to remember. Not in a flashback or a direct and conscious thought. I want to keep it at the back of my mind where it belongs. It can do no good to open that box.
But that’s the thing with C-PTSD it doesn’t give you choices. It’s a disability and I am at it’s mercy, just as the diabetic is at the mercy of sugar. Except my abuser is not so sweet.