Dreams

I had the most fucked up dream last night. I think it all started because I was on a forum last night and someone posted a topic: "Who is the most fucked up psycho bitch you know?" Naturally, I thought of my mother, whose antics included various types of emotional and physical abuse during my 19 years of living with her. This topic got me thinking about her, which I haven't done in quite a while, so naturally my subconscious betrayed me by filling my night with visions of the nut job.


I dreamed that I was in the supermarket when she suddenly appeared to kidnap me at knifepoint. She threw me in the back of a van and transported me back to her place, holding me captive in my childhood bedroom. She then informed me that she had the bodies of the UPS guy and the mailman in the basement, and that if I tried to escape, she'd slit my throat just like she'd done to them. Apparently, she'd ordered a bunch of porcelein dolls C.O.D. off of the Home Shopping Network and hadn't wanted to pay.


So there I was, trapped in this hellish room with Care Bears curtains and a twin sized bed, while she was banging some dude in the next room. Then, my imagined little sister toddled up and got backhanded for interrupting. I scooped her up and went out the window.


We ran through some woods and ended up in some dude's backyard (apparently a safehouse of some sort) who transported us to my Dad's house. My Dad took me back to the house to pick up my shit, only to be met by my psycho mom who started gnawing on my leg like Cujo. I whacked her in the head with a red Swingline stapler and headed to the basement, which was filled with classic arcade-style video games. Ms. PacMan ate my quarter, much to my dismay. Suddenly, Cujo came at me again. I grabbed one of those Duck Hunt arcade guns and put her down for good. Then I stole all her video games, hauled them to my own basement, and we had the most kick-ass poker night ever.


Finally, I sold her house, left her homeless and destitute (apparently, she came back to life after Duck Hunt), and bought myself a shit ton of jewelry.


A lot of the dream makes perfect sense. Other parts...not so much, at least to me. Freud would surely have a field day with this one.


She currently doesn't speak to me. She called me this past Christmas and I didn't call her back, so I guess that means I don't speak to her either, but somehow she's still here. Even though I haven't seen or talked to her in 2 years, she still has the power to reduce me to a scared little girl in my dreams.


The mind is a mysterious thing. Consciously, you can say that you're over it and you don't care anymore, but your brain knows different, and will occasionally remind you that you're not as "over it" as you thought you were.