Can't escape hate, even in my dreams.
I woke from a nightmare this morning. Thankfully I had someone there to talk to, I hate needing to have aftercare after a dream. My dreams, I usually look forward to - I enjoy sleep.
I'll describe my nightmare, then some issues that may have birthed it which I have been dealing with. My nightmare that woke me dealt with hate filled rape. I understand if you do not wish to read further.
Dark parking lot.
I notice too late, and can’t escape.
Forcing me up to the cement wall, grinding my face against it. Menacingly saying something. Left growling in my ear as he’s brutalizing me, fucking me, raping me, “What gives you the right to be different?” Fist in my hair, scalpel in hand and close enough I’m worried he’ll remove skin; he begins to cut off my Mohawk. Visually he is a compilation of friends and lovers I have. I am unable to really describe him as he is not overly discernable for any particular feature. He’s probably 45-50 years old, black shirt with red foil intricate patterns, dark hair (brown or black), with slight horseshoe patterned baldness. He makes me walk with him into the nearest shopping store.
He heads for the opposite exit, and I go to a cashier and tell them I need help, call the police, I’ve just been raped. They are astonished, don’t know what to do. As I tell them, “He’s right there, he’s getting away!” They say, “Oh, that gate is locked, he can’t get through just as the alarm sounds as the door is broken open and he escapes.
I begin to head toward the way I came, and see a lot of blood with tissue in lines as thick as if someone were drug along the cheap tile floor. I realize it’s from me, and start telling people to watch their step. To stop stepping on it, I need to preserve evidence.
More and more people come and begin painting with my blood mixing other elements to create a screaming tribal black, red, and ashen gray skull pattern on the floor, as I wake up from screaming in my dream like a death metal singer. Screaming out my anger and frustration. Anger at my attacker, frustration at not being able to stop the people from doing what they’re doing, they are zombies oblivious to my turmoil.
I realize on waking, I am upset that I didn’t hit the man across the face with what I was toying with in my hand as I was forced into the shopping center. That I was too afraid to do anything until he was escaping. I was upset that in my dream I didn’t react as I’ve always told myself I would, which would be to get uncontrollably angry and attack my attacker, or at least rip his balls off.
So, now for the issues I’ve been working through:
I’ve been working through my thoughts with various people telling me that polyamory is just a fancy name for cheating, and others that I shouldn’t have a Mohawk. To just go back to regular hair, I shouldn’t try to get attention with my hair and not define myself by it. My explanations disregarded about my views on polyamory and views on expressing who I am with my hair not my hair expressing me. I’ve been working through the initial air of hesitation within new groups I’m trying to get into as if there is a difference in my polyamory. That it may be viewed as only polysexual.
(Frustrating that in trying to find inclusion we form groups and keep excluding ourselves. Perhaps whittling down until we’re no different from each other and our various social groups only have a few people in them, who do not grow and learn from each other because they think exactly the same. This homogenizing could be said to be in progress in various groups I am already involved with. Good or bad, it just is.)
Is there a switch that flips on as soon as you’re in a relationship with some determinable boundaries that indicates; now you’re polyamorous, now you’re validated. The impression seems to be that before an established relationship forms you’re not polyamorous, you’re polysexual. And somehow that’s different, bad, worse, something not to be.
I am sexual, and polyamorous. I recognize the desire to differentiate more casual swinging from polyamory. But I felt as if by introducing myself as having multiple lovers and no primary partner, all the downcast eyes, impressed upon me that I was bringing something dangerous in, or that I was confused, that I was a swinger in poly clothing.
Granted there were other clarifying questions and tension has been somewhat relieved as other established members display they know me. This has been expected, and I was able to foresee this. It’s the same when you try to gain inclusion to any group. There’s a vetting process, as protection, a way to determine that you are not an outsider, and worth including.
So all these thoughts in my head seemed to bubble over and bring forth the nightmare I had.
What gives me the right to be different? Who does?
I do.
(Alternately, the nightmare might've been hot if roleplayed under different circumstances...)
I'll describe my nightmare, then some issues that may have birthed it which I have been dealing with. My nightmare that woke me dealt with hate filled rape. I understand if you do not wish to read further.
Dark parking lot.
I notice too late, and can’t escape.
Forcing me up to the cement wall, grinding my face against it. Menacingly saying something. Left growling in my ear as he’s brutalizing me, fucking me, raping me, “What gives you the right to be different?” Fist in my hair, scalpel in hand and close enough I’m worried he’ll remove skin; he begins to cut off my Mohawk. Visually he is a compilation of friends and lovers I have. I am unable to really describe him as he is not overly discernable for any particular feature. He’s probably 45-50 years old, black shirt with red foil intricate patterns, dark hair (brown or black), with slight horseshoe patterned baldness. He makes me walk with him into the nearest shopping store.
He heads for the opposite exit, and I go to a cashier and tell them I need help, call the police, I’ve just been raped. They are astonished, don’t know what to do. As I tell them, “He’s right there, he’s getting away!” They say, “Oh, that gate is locked, he can’t get through just as the alarm sounds as the door is broken open and he escapes.
I begin to head toward the way I came, and see a lot of blood with tissue in lines as thick as if someone were drug along the cheap tile floor. I realize it’s from me, and start telling people to watch their step. To stop stepping on it, I need to preserve evidence.
More and more people come and begin painting with my blood mixing other elements to create a screaming tribal black, red, and ashen gray skull pattern on the floor, as I wake up from screaming in my dream like a death metal singer. Screaming out my anger and frustration. Anger at my attacker, frustration at not being able to stop the people from doing what they’re doing, they are zombies oblivious to my turmoil.
I realize on waking, I am upset that I didn’t hit the man across the face with what I was toying with in my hand as I was forced into the shopping center. That I was too afraid to do anything until he was escaping. I was upset that in my dream I didn’t react as I’ve always told myself I would, which would be to get uncontrollably angry and attack my attacker, or at least rip his balls off.
So, now for the issues I’ve been working through:
I’ve been working through my thoughts with various people telling me that polyamory is just a fancy name for cheating, and others that I shouldn’t have a Mohawk. To just go back to regular hair, I shouldn’t try to get attention with my hair and not define myself by it. My explanations disregarded about my views on polyamory and views on expressing who I am with my hair not my hair expressing me. I’ve been working through the initial air of hesitation within new groups I’m trying to get into as if there is a difference in my polyamory. That it may be viewed as only polysexual.
(Frustrating that in trying to find inclusion we form groups and keep excluding ourselves. Perhaps whittling down until we’re no different from each other and our various social groups only have a few people in them, who do not grow and learn from each other because they think exactly the same. This homogenizing could be said to be in progress in various groups I am already involved with. Good or bad, it just is.)
Is there a switch that flips on as soon as you’re in a relationship with some determinable boundaries that indicates; now you’re polyamorous, now you’re validated. The impression seems to be that before an established relationship forms you’re not polyamorous, you’re polysexual. And somehow that’s different, bad, worse, something not to be.
I am sexual, and polyamorous. I recognize the desire to differentiate more casual swinging from polyamory. But I felt as if by introducing myself as having multiple lovers and no primary partner, all the downcast eyes, impressed upon me that I was bringing something dangerous in, or that I was confused, that I was a swinger in poly clothing.
Granted there were other clarifying questions and tension has been somewhat relieved as other established members display they know me. This has been expected, and I was able to foresee this. It’s the same when you try to gain inclusion to any group. There’s a vetting process, as protection, a way to determine that you are not an outsider, and worth including.
So all these thoughts in my head seemed to bubble over and bring forth the nightmare I had.
What gives me the right to be different? Who does?
I do.
(Alternately, the nightmare might've been hot if roleplayed under different circumstances...)