What a strange night. I was talking in my sleep. I remember thinking to myself, Faith, you’re sleeping, be quiet. But at one point I just gave in and kept pointing and yelling at some person in my dream.
I don’t usually do trigger warnings because I expect people to only click on a survivor’s site if they are in a space to read whatever might pop up. However, this time I must warn you there is strong detail in this dream concerning the sexual abuse and sexual conditioning of a boy by his father.
In the dream a young boy was raised as his father’s lover. In his adult years, early 20’s, the boy wanted to venture out to other men. The father was angry, the boy tried to tell him it was just for sex and that he wasn’t trying to leave his father. Partners of the boy tried to tell him that sex with is father was abuse but the boy said it was natural and that he always belonged to his father. His dad cut off all money to the boy until it forced him to return home. The boy was in a stairwell jumping from one floor to the next, out of control. He finally found the front door to his father’s house where he was met by a female doctor who gave him small cups of liquid medication to help him remember his childhood. I turned into the 20-something year old boy.
The doctor grabbed my hand and started to stick my thumb with a needle repeatedly. She said, do you remember this? It was excruciating. I couldn’t move, she just kept jabbing my thumb with the needle. I said, yes, yes, I remember. She said, it’s called abuse.
She gave me another drink of medication and asked if I remembered kissing passionately, being held from behind by a nude father. I was very medicated, intoxicated. I laughed at her and drooled. I told her everything he and I did was natural, part of who we were as a family and that she’d never understand.
There were 3 other people in the room with the doctor, me and the father. One was a male lover, the other two girls. There was thicket green paint somewhere. I can’t see where right now but I remember someone or something had that color. My lover kept trying to tell me I’d been abused. Finally the doctor said, “who am I talking to?” I laughed, scoffed. End dream
Well, it was an intense dream to say the least. It’s interesting to me that the main people were male and that it took so long in the dream before I turned into the young adult male. The idea of a child being conditioned to believe there’s no abuse taking place isn’t new to me but the sexual abuse and physical torture was so ‘in your face’. I mean sexual acts took place in the dream instead of just references so it was very disturbing to see the son wanting to kiss his father passionately. I remember one time after kissing him like that, he looked him in the eye and walked away. He looked for a tiny spark of approval. There was a rape in a restroom by a man about 50 years old, heavy-set, full beard. He left the boy crying against the sinks where there were mirrors on the wall. The man laughed at the boy as he sobbed then he left the restroom.
The boy had been totally created by his father. His clothing was chosen for him. His hair was solid black with dark blue streaks. He looked like a ‘gay boy’. He looked like a younger version of his father.
Now I wonder, how will this dream be processed in therapy? Will I disturb Dr. Do?
Ugly!! What an ugly dream. I usually remember my dreams in strict detail. I remember what each person wore, what the room looked like, all that. This time there was more emotional awareness. The boy’s hormones were all over the place and he wanted sex and not just from his father. He tried to reassure his father that he would never leave him, he just wanted to have sex with other men. He was so jovial and moved around a lot. He had this la la la, everything is fine, dramatic way of moving. When he told his father he was just having sex with the other men he did this feminine bounce / collapse on the sofa and put his feet on the table. That boy didn’t flinch when his father said he belonged to him. He knew it and had known it for a long time.
…………. and one wonders why I put off sleep. Last night I did lay down instead of linger awake. I’m going to do the same tonight then go to therapy tomorrow.