Little Money Squares
I dreamed of tiny squares of money. Each bill folded tightly, down to the size of a thumb nail bed. Smaller even. Scattered all around the floor of a shop, like a gift shop, but with linoleum flooring. I disregarded them at first, but then kept seeing them all around the shop. I saw a young girl, maybe 8, walking around and she kept pulling something out of her pocket and looking at it, then returning it to her pocket. But each time she pulled it out, little tiny squares of money fell out. She didn't notice and kept walking around. I knelt down and scooped up a few and took them to her. Then I gathered more. Soon I was scouring the entire shop, searching for these tiny squares until I found each one. As I walked up to her for the last time, her parents had walked up behind her. Her father looked at me kindly and said that his daughter had autism, and folding the money was one way that she dealt with being in a crowded public place. He thanked me profusely and they walked away.
I looked down again and saw a few gently folded over money bills that were coupled with receipts. There was a $50 and a couple of $20s. I picked that up and started asking the other patrons in the store if anybody had dropped that money. No one claimed it; no matter who I walked up to, no one said it was theirs. Finally I took it to the shop clerk, and she said if nobody else claimed it I could keep it. I didn't want to keep it, though, I wanted to find the rightful owner. So I started looking at the receipts to try and figure out if I could find who it was. I never did.
As for the first part, I think that might explain the process of compartmentalizing trauma. Every time little triggers pop up, they are buried back down, but little bits spill out in the process.
Last night on our drive home, I passed the road on which my abusive exbf lived. In a moment, I was mentally transported to his old house, all the way to his bedroom, every detail intact, down to the blue painted walls. I dismissed the thought... At least consciously. Subconsciously, my past trauma was triggered and it erupted this morning at 4am when Eric woke me up. He was all but laying on me to restrain my flailing limbs and yelling at me to wake up. I was reliving my sexual assault... In my dream I was lying there without a fight, but in my head I was screaming and trying to get him off of me. The memory so clear.
I really wish there was something I could take, a supplement if you will, to repress dreams. Hypnosil would work... If only it were real.