Archive for July 20th, 2009

I had an empowering dream that I just had to share. I was an adult, and I was going to hang out with E, who is one of my real-life friends. We always hang out on Saturdays. I realized that it was Christmas and felt good about not being all depressed and anxious for once. E (who represents my anger parts in my dreams) was not happy. She had to go to a party held by one of her parents’ friends, and she wanted me to come along.

Sure enough, the party is being held at S&L’s house (my most sadistic abusers). I am surprised at how well I am taking this. I keep grounding myself and telling myself that I am not to dissociate under any circumstances. I don’t want anyone to harm me, but I also want to make these people feel d@#$ uncomfortable when they see me.

I see E hiding in the corner crying. She has quite a stream of tears running down her face. The family friends did not like her gift and are making her feel badly about it. I told her that she should just buy them $10 gifts cards to a restaurant next year and not worry about whether they like it or not. (This is a variation of how I handled a similar situation that is not relevant to this dream.)

I notice that E and I are on some sort of kiddie boat and that the room is filled with water tunnels that are kind of like the ride at a water park that is intended for families – like moving down a lazy river. (Any form of transportation in my dreams represents control of the direction of my life. For me to stay on the boat is to let others direct where my life is heading.)

I did not want to be on the boat or have it move, but a cousin from my father’s side of the family (who shares her name with my father’s mother) pulled my boat, making it move. I got very angry and told her to stop. She disregarded me, so I jumped out onto the floor of the house so I could control where I went.

I decided to walk down the hallway toward the bedrooms that I only remember through flashbacks. I built up my courage to look inside. I was afraid that, if they did not match my flashbacks, then maybe my flashbacks were not true. A man walked by, and I feared he would interfere, so I threw open the door and looked inside. Yes, it matched the flashback.

I peered in the other couple of rooms and then saw the stairs leading down to the basement (where most of the abuse happened). I stormed downstairs before anyone could stop me.

I looked around at the basement that seemed much smaller through adult eyes. I then saw the pathetic assortment of worn out children’s toys and got angry. I picked up a stuffed bear and beat it on the ground, yelling out my anger at the place.

I turned around and saw a cowering black puppy. I walked up to him and tried to pet him. I could see in his eyes that he had been abused and was not loved. I told him that he was beautiful and precious. I told him that these people had hurt me, too, but that they were liars. The dog finally said, “I am bad.” I immediately replied, “No! That is their lie! I felt the same way about myself. They kept showing me lies and got me to believe them, but they are LIES! You are beautiful and precious.” During this discussion, my toddler son (represents my inner child) was out, and I told the dog that he was just as beautiful as my son.

The man came downstairs, and I picked up the puppy. He asked what I was doing. I said, “I am taking this puppy home.” He said that I wasn’t, and I said, “Oh yes I am,” with finality in my voice. He said that he couldn’t wait to see “her face” when “she” learned that I was taking the dog.

I walked the dog upstairs and out of the house. Whenever someone tried to stop me, I looked him or her square in the eye and saw them recognize the grown me. Nobody had the courage to stand in my way.

Photo credit: Lynda Bernhardt

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