I’m run down. Tired and lacking in energy.
Just when things were looking a little bit up at work, and I could’ve done with a break to let that idea settle, I went all festival for the weekend, which was mostly fun, but involved some serious emotional drainage. The sea witch was there and I was mooning (is that the right word) and missing. Significex was there trying to deal with a load of huge issues she’s had over the years, sexual violence and friendships colliding in big messy heaps.
It was really good to talk to her about it, even though it’s really horrible to remember these things are going on all the time. People forgive a guy when they know what he’s done. Someone is silenced by the need to keep things friendly and not split up groups.
It’s almost like manners outweigh the most extreme type of assault.
Male privilege really screws up the world. Because it means someone can forget what they’ve done. Out of manners nobody brings it up and it’s therefore, tacitly, approved.
Anyway, that’s not the mess I wanted to talk about. I’m just trying to set up the fact that I’m wrung out and stressed emotionally at the moment. Lots of tears and silence and difficulty communicating. Hence lots of quietness around here. And the titular difficulty waking up.
Anyway, the violent dreams. I’ve had two in the last week and a bit. I’ll try and describe some of the main features of the mroe recent one, as they’ve both had a common theme, but the first one might be a bit much for some.
I can’t really remember the context, but I was part of a security team for a club night going on in what seemed to be a complex of university buildings. There were people trying to storm it in vans and lots of weird conflicts between people.
The central point though, the focus of the whole thing, was me falling off of a high wall, and smashing down on my right shoulder.
I got back up, not in too much pain, but as I continued to argue with somebody, I realised something was wrong, and looked down at my side to see a huge tear in my skin, with a bone sticking out of it, slowly pushing further. The view was (natch) unsettling. So I pulled on the bone and held it in my hand.
For the rest of the dream I was trying to find someone/something that would be able to put me back together again. Riding down a coastal road and ending up in a strange bar trying to ask for help from unwelcoming strangers. All the while with more and more bones falling out of my side. The key was trying to keep them all together. My entire shoulder blade came out at one point, so I was just carrying loads of bit of blood drenched self around with me, trying to persuade people to put me back together.
The weird thing was, and perhaps this is just the dulled feeling of dreams, it never hurt, it never seemed much of a problem, it barely even damaged my use of that arm and side. It was just spewing bones and becoming more baggy.
So yeah, we look at this at the same time as the dream last week (similar theme, more *ahem* sensitive body part being removed) and it’s quite clear what’s on my mind.
I’m broken. I feel like part of me is missing and needs fixing. I’m running around trying to work out how to fix myself, whilst trying to hold myself together, at which I’m barely succeeding. It’s not so much the pain, as the fact that I don’t know how to fix it, who can fix it. And I’ve got to try and keep a hold of myself. All the things that make up me, while I go through this.
I’m worried that I’ll make it, but I’ll make it by losing bits of myself. Not being me any more.
I find I have less and less time where I’m actually being me.
So I keep on dreaming of these violent destructions and distortions of my self, perhaps just to remind me.
It’s quite unsettling, but these days, what isn’t.
And I’m still in bed, and I should be leaving for work.
Better go.
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