Monthly Archives: August 2007

Rivers Edge – Dream Therapy

Rivers Edge

Mother and I went to a rivers edge where we sat low behind a rock watching my childhood. The river ran right through a dessert. A man came up and asked if she would like to cross the razor rock filled river with her two infant children. The mother followed perhaps 100 people into the water. They flowed with the current down and around huge rock masses until reaching the shore. While on shore a man came up the leader who happened to be wearing blue jeans and a T-shirt. He asked him what we were doing out in the middle of no where. He said, “We’re looking for turquoise.” The man questioning said, “Out here? We’ll be robbed and murdered.” He pointed to the women and children who had risked their lives crossing the river. He couldn’t believe he crossed the river trusting that they would go some place safe where they could raise their children only to find out they were digging for turquoise. The man instructed the group (who still didn’t know about the turquoise agenda) to start moving across the dessert. The dream panned to a young boy dressed in Tarzan type attire watching 4 Indian men look at the wanderers. He prepared his slingshot as if to shoot a stone their way. Thinking better of it he caught up with the group but didn’t mention he’d seen Indian warriors. The dream then panned back to the warriors who turned their horses towards the wanderers and began attacking. By this time the wanderers were being escorted by armed forces. The four Indians attacked with super long arrows with large white heads measuring about 5 inches at the widest point. I saw one arrow go into the back of an armed guard carrying a flag. I woke up.

We talk

Speaking of the check book, of managing the house and other things the foster mother said to the foster father, “Whose fault is this?” she said this as she moved into an elevator that finds itself in my dreams quite often. I said, “That’s the problem with us, we analyze everything, try and find out whose fault it is but we don’t change anything.” She said “What?” The elevator doors closed just before I could step in to answer her. While closing I noticed it was filled beyond capacity with people holding black plastic bags full of whatever. I caught the next elevator and went to class. Sitting in class was too stressful thinking about this argument so I got up and left. As I rounded the corner the foster mother came out of her classroom. “Don’t you work?” I said. She wanted to know more about my comment. I told her, all we do is talk but we don’t change anything. We ask who’s responsible for the good and the bad, we get information yet that information is useless. She told me things would change if I were respectful. I told her I was respectful. I don’t hit you, spit at you, name call or threaten you. I talk to you adult to adult and I’ll always do that. You, however, hit, spit, kick and scream at me. Where is the respect in that? You can’t do that to people and tell them you love them too.

Wandered Off

Mother and I went out to get a drink and dance. Had three long island ice teas. Left with mother, both of us fell asleep in the car, Captain Crunch was in the back seat. In the dream I woke up, got out of the car and wandered off up the hill and to the first step of an unknown home we were parked in front of. Before I hit the first step I realized I’d wandered off and went back to the car. Cap’s ears were alert as he watched me come back to the car.

Joan of Arc

The three dreams above are from the morning of August 28th, 2007
Commentary written August 30, 2007-3:19PM

Rivers Edge – Dream Commentary

All three of these dreams were in the same evening. I watched my childhood with my mother. She took me to the edge of a river where she showed me that she did everything she could to help me as a child. The reason the river is significant is because of the song my mother use to sing to me called “Go Down Pharaoh.” The river is significant not because of Pharaoh himself but because of Moses and how he was put in the river in a basket for the saving of his life. My mother wanted to show me just how she put herself out and risked her life to make sure I was safe.

What I also find interesting is that despite her telling me she did her best I could see the real goings on. I could see the man tricked everyone, used their motherly instincts to save their children for his own selfish gain. He put them in harms way so he would benefit. The way I see it, the mother did this, put me in harms way for her selfish gain. What I like about that dream, though bloody at times, is that despite my mother telling me she did all she could I saw clearly just how jacked up the situation really was. I saw and heard the truth above her tapes. I like that.

It didn’t escape my notice that in two dreams that night I wandered. I should also mention that my foster mother wasn’t abusive at all. I have no idea why she appeared in this dream with my foster father behaving in such a way.

Joan of Arc
The three dreams above are from the morning of August 28th, 2007
Commentary written August 30, 2007-3:19PM

Tell Me Again- Therapy Assignment Part 1 of 2

“Tell me again, the one about the ape.” Mama piped up and told me, “He’s told you that joke three times already.” “I know but I like it.” I laid my head in his lap and he told me one more time. A purple plaid shirt tucked into dark blue jeans, a young girl looking up from his lap in awe as he sat on the steps in a house referred to as “Your Grandmother’s house.” I both fear him and love him. I’d almost say I was in love with him. “The man ran through the final door.” He concluded, “The ape came through and said, “Tag you’re it.” A six year old little girl in awe of monster-angel laughed as if she’d never heard that joke before.

Tell Me AgainI told my mother I’d name my first child after him. Why such obsession over a cousin? He was addicted to me. My mother, well, she was just a pervert but he was in love with me I thought. He was in love with me and that’s the difference. No, I don’t like what he does but he loves me. I’m going to name my first child after him. It all seems so sick now, so silly to think he could love. I mean, how would he know what love is when not one day alive in that family was he shown anything but how horrible the human race could be to those weaker than themselves? Continue reading

Tell Me Again- Therapy Assignment Part 2 of 2

Never Surrender

He explained to me in detail how he’d kill my mother, my grandmother, my grandfather and all of my aunts. We sat on a city bus and he spoke plainly about using their greatest fears against them. He wouldn’t touch them, he’d scare them to death. My grandfather, who was burned back in ’85 would be locked in his room and while sleeping he’d set off smoke bombs and leave him in there scared to death. He’d leave him in there remembering what it was like to be in flames from the waist down and nearly lose his life from it. Wolf would chain my Aunty P in a dark room and have dogs bark and growl until she died of a heart attack. Aunty S would be raped to death by a stranger. He went on and on and on with detail only a sick mind could come up with.

Our relationship was black and white. It was either good. It was bad. He hurt me. He loved me. He scared me. He told me a story of how to survive in that family. And to this day I remember that conversation on my grandmother’s porch he told me how to survive him and our family. There’s a song called Never Surrender by Corey Hart. He introduced me to music, songs my mother would never allow me to hear. I hung onto those songs. I hung on so tightly they nearly killed me.

In high school when things got even worse with my mother, when she stepped up her sadism I listened to the song Never Surrender on the floor in my bedroom, tucked in a ball, lights out, rocking back and forth. In that dark room filled with mallard ducks and tree plants was a life size juke box which held only Corey Hart LP’s. I had everything he ever put out. I needed to secure this cache so I copied all of the LP’s onto cassette then make a backup copy of them so that if my mother took the juke box or ever found back up number one I still had back up number two in my locker at school. She took absolutely everything but she wasn’t getting the one thing given to me. She wasn’t getting Corey Hart.

I was so obsessed with him that I wore a blue jean jacket with his name on it and a sheriff’s badge like Corey Hart did. The kids at school called me “the sheriff.” I liked that. It was a tin badge I bought at the grocery store and stuck on my jacket and sported everywhere I went.

Times when my mother was at her meanest I’d go in my head and listen to Corey Hart. In my room I’d listen to him on the floor thinking about how I wanted to kill myself. The same song I held onto would be the same song that came so close to being the last one I ever heard.

I find it strange that Wolf would tell me to survive him and my family through music. I have a strange relationship with music anyway. When my mother sang at night that’s when I knew I was safe. When she sang, and boy could she sing, it was a sign that everything was okay. I came to both love and loathe her voice. Music was a sign of safety for just a moment and I both loved it and resented it. So here he was telling me through one song I could survive him and my family. I hung onto that. The words seemed so powerful.

When I hear that song today I immediately turn the radio off. I know not to surrender. I also know as a child surrendering was my only option. It was that or death. I have options now and I don’t need a pop singer to tell me that.

Tell Me Again- Never Surrender- Therapy Assignment Part 2 of 2
Tell Me Again- Therapy Assignment Part 1 of 2
Lyrics to Never Surrender by Corey Hart
Thursday, August 30, 2007-2:38AM EST
***comments are off***

Is Death Too Harsh For Sex Offenders?

On YouTube I saw a video by a pedophile saying the laws are too strict for sex offenders. He said it wasn’t right to keep them so many feet from children. He said the laws are too harsh and that pedophiles were killing themselves so their families could go on with their lives. I suppose we survivors and the law makers were suppose to drop tears for him and them. He even said to protect our children they need to be informed. He made it sound like we need to keep away from him not him away from us. The whole time he was talking he looked like he was high on something. The man has issues more than pedophilia. I think someone should step up and shoot him too. Or he could do us a favor and shoot himself. That way we don’t have to prosecute a hero for taking out a slob.


This entry is not directed at anyone in particular. After seeing that jackass’ video I was livid. A comment came in validating my anger. I want to make it clear that this entry isn’t directed at her. It’s an entry about why I’m so pissed, especially after seeing that video.

I’m pissed at the world cause as Couey said, this sort of thing happens everyday. Everyday!!! You know what else pisses me off? There will be people to come to his aide or protest his death as if he has some right to life at all. This is a whole ‘nother rant here and has nothing to do with what you said okay. This is a whole different directional rant which really got started after I saw that jackasses video which I refuse to link to.

Am I pro-death penalty? Yes and No. Am I pro-death penalty for repeat sex offenders? Hell yes! However, with the death penalty in general the length of time it takes to see the death chamber, the appeals and all of that will re-victimize the family. In that way I’m against the death penalty. I think it hurts the victims more than serves justice when it takes twenty years to be put to death. But is the death penalty itself unjust? No. I don’t believe it is. I’m sure this opens up a whole different debate about who has the right to kill whom and all that but I’m going to tell ya (not you personally but everyone out there) when it comes to certain issues there is nothing you can say to me to change my mind. When it comes to repeat sex offenders I am all for the death penalty. I am totally for child sex offenders AND serial rapists getting the death penalty.

This is how I see it…we keep murderers in prison, try to keep them there to serve out their sentence and consider them more dangerous than those that kill the soul of woman and children. This says to me that the value of life is somewhat backwards. It’s like, well, yes you were raped and he raped other women/children/men BUT you’re alive so he gets earlier release than criminals that didn’t keep their victims alive. For Jessica Lunsford she had two things taken, her body and her life. The death penalty is just. But when an offender repeatedly takes the body of individuals but doesn’t take their life does it make him better than the man that takes both? To me, the magnitude of the crime is what makes something worthy of death. Every victim of Couey’s deserves justice even though he left them alive. But once you rack up a number of living victims I believe the death penalty should come into play. I do not believe there should be more justice for the dead than the living. My point is that there should be equal justice for the dead and the living. When it comes to predators be they murderers or sex offenders justice should be equal and should not depend on if the victim lived. The magnitude of the crime, the number of victims by sex offenders should be weighed and the death penalty considered. But hey, if the world doesn’t want to off the pedophiles then stop giving them early release. Stop letting people out for good behavior. What is good behavior in prison for crying out loud? What he mopped the floor and didn’t start any fights therefore he gets a little gold star that makes him eligible to leave his cell and go assault someone else? Good behavior? For a pedophile? Give me a fucking break!!!

Call me crazy for saying they should be put to death but you know what? I sit up at night scared to death. I see the images in my head like it was yesterday and I can feel my mother, my uncle, my cousin on me. It makes me not just angry but sick to know if my mother got the death penalty for torturing and raping me from age 3 to my late teens there would be someone that would come to her aid in the death chamber. What the fuck about me? It’s like, hang on people, you care about that life, about making sure that lives. You’re going to go hold up candles at the prison when that is put to death? Guess what? That’s bull shit. But, when Couey is put to death there will be people protesting. They’ll be up holding candles and what not and I’ll be up too. I’ll be up trying to avoid the same fucking nightmares, the same flashbacks, the same damn memories cause by a woman and two men that just couldn’t find it in their heart to leave me the fuck alone. Hell yeah I’m pissed. I’m pissed because there is so much attention given to the criminals and their rights. And way too often the shock and horror of what happens wears off and victims will be forgotten, both the living and the dead.


More Calls For Death Penalty in Child Rape Cases

Sunday, August 26, 2007-6:57PM EST


And another fuckin thing! If ever I were assaulted again and stood before a court or the media and they asked what I wanted out of the case I swear I’d say it was because the person fucked me over, not because I wanted to protect others. Yes, I want others to not go through what the perp did to me but I’m not going to give the line about, “This is so no one else has to go through this.” Fuck that, this is for me. I want this mother fucker in jail because he fucked me over. That’s why I’m doing this. And when you put him in jail then no one else gets fucked over. It’s called killing two birds with one stone.

I’m done for the day. I’m spent. I’ve gotta eat and calm down, pet my dog and all that jazz. Offenders have taken up too much of my day already.


Trust Issues and Fear

There isn’t a person on the face of the earth I trust without question. There isn’t a person on the face of this earth that I feel so safe with that I’d turn around and be comfortable with them standing behind me. No matter how long I’ve known you or will know you, if you stand behind me I’ll move.

Months back when lying in bed talking and spooning I asked Blossom, “How can you stand for me to be behind you this way? You can’t see me.” She said, “Because I trust you.” She asked if I would be uncomfortable if she were behind me. I said, “Yes.” It kinda ruined the moment. She realized just how deep my trust issues are. Was it her I didn’t trust because it was her or because I’m me? It’s the latter. My lack of trust is pretty much blanket, all inclusive, there’s no one special person I trust less than others save my mother.

MacBlue asked if I feel safe with Barney Fife (my roommate). I told him, “I worry sometimes he’s going to come back and try to hurt me but being stronger than he is makes that a bad decision for him.” He’s an uncoordinated old man who requires a daily nap. I’m a strong 36 year old woman. Do the math. But the fear is there. Again, it’s a blanket kind of fear, all inclusive; no one is feared above another save my mother.

Continue reading

Therapy Stuff- Safety Measures

Therapy again tomorrow, oh the joy! Actually, MacBlue was very helpful Tuesday. I was impressed with our session.

I got to talk to a friend today on the phone and kind of unload on her. I always enjoy talking to her. I feel motivated after our conversations. She seems to think I give more than I get but it’s not true. After talking to her I did exactly what I said I was going to do, wash the dog. I have to take him with me tomorrow so he can’t be funky. Nobody likes a funky dog, especially a large funky dog. So that I don’t go escaping out of the cab again I’ll have him attached to my pants. There’s a hook on his harness that I attach a clip to and then clip it to my belt loop. This way I can’t wonder off. He won’t let me. It’s important that he go with me for the next few sessions until I can get myself back to my normal jacked up state of mind. Wednesday’s are usually grooming days around here anyway so everyone got their nails clipped, everyone was brushed and Cap got washed and had his teeth brushed. He even got the royal treatment of aloe vera to soften his coat and keep his skin healthy.

I did some artwork and wrote a poem for it. Now I’m going to bed. I’m not sure when the last time was that I made it to bed before 5am. It won’t be tonight/today.

This is the art piece that goes with the poem.

The Essence of Me

I wish to rise from ruins.
Gather broken pieces,
Shards and shreds long cast off as useless
And create one form worth standing for.
I will rise from rubble
For one great stand
One grand shine.

In my true essence
I wish to rise unscathed by imagery and voices
That encourage the lying down of hope.


Therapy Stuff- Safety Measures
Thursday, August 23, 2007-4:35AM EST