![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I had a dream with the guy who assaulted me in it. I'm not sure I've ever done that before.
He was ... sort of lumpy and misshapen, but him, the way people are in dreams -- not necessarily looking like themselves, but with some sort of essential Platonic themness that makes it clear who they are even when they're someone else.
I spent most of the dream fleeing when I saw him. It was one of my normal dreams, so there was flight, mostly skimming low and intense over the grass so it skimmed into a blur, sometimes darting upwards from there. There was a tangle of a house which, I believe, he had right to be in, but where there was enough confusing architecture to escape through to, not forgetting the roof, which had a gentle slope fit for climbing.
I think at some point I got sick of running. He wanted to apologise; that had been the root of his occasional pursuits. I let him speak his piece, I said something in response, I think things I figured he should have known (one of them was, basically, "Dude. I was fourteen. You were seventeen. USE BRAIN."). He wanted a hug, or something, and I eventually consented to touch, with a chair or something between it, and felt vaguely unsettled by the whole thing. I'm not sure if dreamself should have run again then or not, but I didn't.
I'm left wondering if this is some sort of unbinding of energy tied up in fearing him, fearing him although the last I googled him he was somewhere in Texas (at whatever place is in opposition to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
keeps's school, IIRC, but I can't remember these things), or some sort of ... the thrashing percolations of my internal processing have tossed this lump up onto the shore of consciousness to ooze into the beach like a dead jellyfish.
I think I'll poke it with a stick and see if it tries to sting.
He was ... sort of lumpy and misshapen, but him, the way people are in dreams -- not necessarily looking like themselves, but with some sort of essential Platonic themness that makes it clear who they are even when they're someone else.
I spent most of the dream fleeing when I saw him. It was one of my normal dreams, so there was flight, mostly skimming low and intense over the grass so it skimmed into a blur, sometimes darting upwards from there. There was a tangle of a house which, I believe, he had right to be in, but where there was enough confusing architecture to escape through to, not forgetting the roof, which had a gentle slope fit for climbing.
I think at some point I got sick of running. He wanted to apologise; that had been the root of his occasional pursuits. I let him speak his piece, I said something in response, I think things I figured he should have known (one of them was, basically, "Dude. I was fourteen. You were seventeen. USE BRAIN."). He wanted a hug, or something, and I eventually consented to touch, with a chair or something between it, and felt vaguely unsettled by the whole thing. I'm not sure if dreamself should have run again then or not, but I didn't.
I'm left wondering if this is some sort of unbinding of energy tied up in fearing him, fearing him although the last I googled him he was somewhere in Texas (at whatever place is in opposition to
keeps's school, IIRC, but I can't remember these things), or some sort of ... the thrashing percolations of my internal processing have tossed this lump up onto the shore of consciousness to ooze into the beach like a dead jellyfish.I think I'll poke it with a stick and see if it tries to sting.
Tags:
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
From:
no subject
(no subject)
From:From: (Anonymous)
no subject
I hope it's more help than anything else!
Shad.
From:
no subject
*offers tea and cookies*
From:
Mmrr
suzanne