The most disgusting nightmare yet

 

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This one is going to get ugly.  I am triggering hard.  Last night’s nightmares have shaken me.  They started the night before.  Me running from him.  Last night the theme and feeling of the dream changed.  I need to vomit and then try to get this out.  I’m also making an apmnt to see my therapist.

If you have read my story you know that there are two men I have regular nightmares around.  My older brother who molested, hit, mentally & emotionally tortured and raped me and my Xman whom I did drugs with and would have surely lost my life to when the PTSD had control.  They look very similar physically and they have the same narcissistic sociopathic tendencies.  Last night, it was both of them.

It is one of the most insane and disturbing dreams I have had post therapy.  Are we really ever truly “post” therapy.  I don’t think so.  I think I will always be going back when I need help with PTSD.  Why be miserable?  I digress….

Back to the dream.  I was an adult.  I flashed between two scenes like a TV shows does to keep you up on both stories.  Sometimes I was at my Parents home in Oregon (the one they had when I was young) and other times I was renting a house with other Burners.  In both instances, I was not safe.  The feeling of needing to escape is my reoccurring nightmare theme.  It’s dark.  I know “the bad man” is coming and I need to escape.  Sometimes I start frantically packing things because I know I am never coming back.  Other times I begin to run and open secret doors that lead to more rooms and more secret doors.  Sometimes I make it outside but am then somehow too afraid to run into the dark.  I often take a car and then suddenly I am in the back seat and no one is driving or there are no brakes.  It’s sheer emotional terror.

This time when my brother appeared naked, erect and wanting to fuck me, I was wanting to do it as well.  I knew we had to hide.  We were moving around the basement silently trying to find a place where no one would see us.  I was intensely aroused and close to orgasm.  I would flash over to the other dream and it would be my Xman.  He would also be erect and wanting to have sex.  I was also trying to hide him and to fuck him.  Back and forth ~ back and forth.  Me as a grown adult.  Knowing it was wrong and yet so filled with lust and that all I wanted to do was have sex.  At one point in the dream, I am laying in a bed in my Mothers home.  I am waking up from the dream I just described.  I reached for a vibrator and was going to attempt to masturbate because I was so aroused.  I still knew it was disgusting but was so sexually aroused I did it anyway.

I awoke this morning in full trigger mode.  The room was spinning.  I had to fight to come fully awake.  I was screaming for help in my own head.  I felt someone sit down on the bed next to me and I was frozen stiff.  I could not get my eye’s all the way open and my vision was completely blurred when I did.  I felt myself start to panic.  My heart was pounding.  I had to first convince myself I was alone and safe.  I felt (feel) terrified, disgusted and relieved (that it was a dream and not real).  I stood up quick and had to balance myself.  I had a desire to be out of the bedroom and into the light.  As soon as I opened the curtain that separates our bedroom from the living room I began to come down.  I started talking to myself out loud and reached inside for my PTSD battle tools.  “It was a dream.  I am safe.  It was just a dream of a PTSD ridden mind.  It does not mean that’s what you want.  It does not have to have meaning at all.  It was just a dream.  It’s just the PTSD.  It’s just the PTSD.  It’s just the…..”

So yeah, there’s a new fucking shitty ass trigger in there.  Wow.  I mean I know I have been replacing the abuser.  I know that Xman looked eerily like my brother.  I know why I was with him and why I let him abuse me.  I know why I abused him back.  I understand and have released shame for the choices I made when the PTSD controlled me.  But fucking shit I did not need that fucking dream.  I am so deeply grossed out.  I went straight to the toilet.  Handled that.  Reached for my weed and went outside.  I knew standing there on our deck knowing that the most important thing for me to do right now would be to come in here and tell you here on this blog ~ my truth.

I have a lump in my throat.  I have images of my brothers erect cock coming at me.  I have images of myself wanting it…..  WTF  AM I SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THAT???  I don’t want to think about that.  I don’t want to see it.  I am so deeply and horribly disgusted by that dream.

PTSD feeds on shame and fear.  It holds you down and tells you that you are disgusting and you should never ever tell anyone your ugly truth.  It kicks you and beats when you are down and it can reach up and bitch slap you when you are up too.  I did nothing to deserve my childhood.  I did nothing to deserve PTSD.  I have no shame over a dream that is the result of PTSD.  It doesn’t mean shit.  It was just a dream.  I wanted to share that with you.  I wanted to take away it’s power by showing it to you.  And I hope that if you have the same sick dreams you will know that it is just the PTSD and you are not disgusting.

I want to go for a walk in the rising sun with my dog.  I want to scream and cry and vomit.

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