Over the past couple of weeks I’ve had a bunch of dreams moving from bizarre to disturbing.
Cam had a starring role in the first one. It was about a strange form of TPN Christmas party clearly held in the northern hemisphere as evidenced by all the snow and during the gift-giving part of the evening a serving plate (gift for Cam) turned into a gravy boat whilst I simultaneously discovered that I was naked. I then procured some clothing and we got chatting about moleskines and productivity… as you do!
The second was somewhat less strange and more disturbing. Basically there were two guys tasing me. I can’t remember much more than fear and pain.
The third had me waking in a cold sweat shaking. To explain why it was so disturbing for me I’ll have to give you a little history but I’ll get to that later. The dream was simple and I don’t remember any details but someone was standing over me with a sharp blade making long, shallow cuts in my skin.
Now for the history.
I used to cut. I don’t remember when self-harm started, I’d been doing it since I was a child but the first time I actually used a blade and made a long, shallow cut down my arm was a turning point for me. It was when I was around 13 and thats when it became an irresistible urge. Cutting is an addiction like any other. Like many alcoholics drowning their sorrows with whatever spirit is on hand I did it so I didn’t have to feel. When life got too painful to bear I would lock myself in my room and drag a blade across my skin until the blood carried my pain away.
I’ve stopped that now. When Colin met me he told me never to do that again. I stopped for a while, a good few months. Then one argument with a teacher at school pushed me over and I cut deeper than I ever had on my upper thigh. I probably should have had stitches there was no way I was going into hospital. Colin did what he could to treat the wounds and to calm me down and I finally felt safe and realised that I didn’t need to cut any more and I haven’t since. Thats not to say that I haven’t wanted to, but I’ve resisted it.
So to dream about someone cutting me is like a recovering heroin junkie dreaming about someone forcing them to take a hit. Shook me up a little.
Anyways enough of my self-indulgent rambling.
You may be curious as to why I group these three dreams together. They’re the only dreams I’ve had in the past month. So its strange that they should all be about vulnerability.