Ironically I think the delusions growing up helped protect me from going totally insane at the daily shift I go through between my two realities, one being my dreams when my body sleeps and one when I am awake.
As a child in them I experienced such horrific violence I couldn’t understand or comprehend. And then when I got older and got powers, the stronger and stronger I got in them the more and more frustrated I became with this world and my body here. I have memories in high school of standing in the crowded halls and feeling so so angry because I could not fly or teleport. All I’d think was “if I were in that place I wouldn’t even be IN this situation”.
Imagine if you had a terrible accident and were left a quadriplegic, incredibly handicapped. However in your dreams you can still move, run, use your arms, jump, swim, etc. Then you wake up back to a body that cannot do 90% of the things you were just doing a minute ago. A body that is incapable. A body you don’t feel connected with anymore. That’s what it feels like for me every day.
I am so STRONG in my dreams. I can bend reality with a snap of my fingers. I have flown through the sky, leapt on top of buildings and across rooftops, hurled cars like they were toys, phased through walls, teleported, lifted trucks with my mind, any possible thing you can imagine. I’ve been tickled by bullets bouncing off my skin. I’ve healed grievous wounds and brought people back to life. I’ve regrown limbs. Traveled through time. Turned myself to rubber and just bounced around everywhere. I’ve turned annoying people into animals.
I’ve done horrific things too. I’ve killed people. I’ve killed so many people. Rarely if ever because I want to. I vividly rememember the first time I really hurt someone. A young man in a convenience store. What was he doing, robbing the place? With a couple others? I was 11 years old. I thought I was doing a good thing. I had transformed into a werewolf, that was my deal back then, don’t remember if I had the dragon mix in there yet, and I had pinned him to the ground and started smashing his head against the floor. Note that I had been forced into fighting situations probably since around the age of what-7? But never humans, or when it was humans I was so weak back then it always ended up in me being killed, I wasn’t actually capable of hurting anyone being that little and before I had powers.
So anyways I am smashing his head against the ground and he is bleeding and he starts crying. This guy starts crying and begging for his life. And I stopped and was just horrified at what I was doing. I started sobbing with him. I held him, I even stroked his head. Everyone else in the store had ran away in horror. I told him I was so sorry…I just kept repeating it over and over again. There was nothing I could do to fix him. That memory is burned into my head.
And now when I kill people it is just like business. I couldn’t kill people like that until I was 17. A decade of fighting before I could kill people and ignore the pleading. A couple, disgruntled neighbors or something, who broke into my house. Just wanted to scare me I think or mess some stuff up. It’s just business, kill or be killed. I had grabbed a knife and gone after the woman first I think. I stabbed her in the face and repeatedly. Again pleading for her life, crying. I did not care. Don’t stop or you could be killed. I stabbed her in the throat. I stabbed her until she couldn’t talk anymore and she was gurgling. At some point she died. I think I woke up before I got to the man but I was after him with a fire poker at the time.
Nowadays I am so horrified when I wake up from dreams where I have killed again. I know that I am so powerful a human can’t do anything to me. It’s like when a human freaks out and stomps a spider. Assuming the spider is not venemous, it can’t do anything to you. Nothing at all. Yet you squash it so it’s insides come spraying out. That’s what I’ve done to humans. God I have killed children. A 12 or 13 year old idiot with a gun trying to fire into a crowd because of some random reason, I slammed him into a wall until he died. Why…
So many memories are burned into my brain of things that technically never happened. So many memories. And I am supposed to come back and be this girl. None of it makes sense.
When I was little when I was only around 5 my loved ones were killed in front of me over and over in horrific ways and I was told “you could have prevented this you should have fought” if I ran they all died. If I froze they died. I died too. When I was 7 I was put at the bottom of a tower and each floor was empty except for some horrible thing I was told to fight. The first thing was this giant owl creature with huge burning yellow eyes. I was so small. They said “Fight.” I said I didn’t know how to fight it. They said “Go for its eyes.” And I did, I clawed out its eyes. It was disgusting. Then I had to go to the next floor and keep fighting.
That’s another thing I learned about killing. It’s disgusting. Even if I don’t cry anymore when I kill, even if I don’t hesistate, the feeling of disgust hasn’t left. I’ve been soaked in gore before. I’ve torn men and beasts in half. Just die already, just die so this can be over.
Age 5 or 6 with my mom and two younger brothers. A toddler and a baby. Mom is acting funny. Her eyes are glazed over. She has a big box with all these pills in front of her. Her medicine box? She forces them in my little brothers, many pills. After a while they start crying. The baby is wailing, the toddler is clutching his stomach saying “my tummy hurts…” the baby goes quiet first and is so pale. So pale and still. My toddler brother has rivers of drool coming out of his mouth. Maybe he threw up. He is very pale now too. He collapses into convulsions and then is still too. Mom is staring at nothing. She has no expression. I know I am next. I ask her if she can give me ones that won’t hurt me before I die. She considers this then hands me some pills and I take them willingly. I become very, very sleepy. Then everything was dark.
I woke up and I was staring at the bodies of myself and my two brothers. I saw my mom taking pills now too. I was standing in the doorway. I thought to myself, I must be a ghost now. I thought, oh! Ghosts can fly! And I flew away out into my neighborhood. I was so happy and free.
I woke up the next morning and went to kindergarten.
Or the time, still around 5 or 6, I was lost in a strange place with my two little brothers. I wondered if perhaps we had been sent back in time. A dirty village. I saw one of my mom’s friends! A grown up I knew! I asked her for help. She said she could get us back home. I went with her. There were other women. They formed a big circle clasping hands. They were around a strange circle with weird markings. They made me and my brothers join the circle and they began chanting. The circle opened up into a swirling bright green storming portal. Their chanting grew feverish and insane. Their flesh was ripped from their bones into the portal. The chanting blended into screams, blood curdling screams. This was wrong. I was pressing my arms against my brothers chests, trying to keep them away from thing thing but the women who were losing their outsides and insides to this thing were still clasping our hands very tightly urging us forward. I woke up in shock but I STILL HEARD THE SCREAMING. I was in the family room where I had gone because I didn’t feel safe in my bedroom. It was dark, late and everyone was asleep but for just a few moments I still heard those women screaming.
Then the next morning I had my apple juice and warm milk and went to kindergarten and played with the other kids. I thought it was so silly they were scared of spiders.
I watched scary movies with my friends when I was 10 and died laughing at them the whole time. I couldn’t believe others thought this was scary. Scary houses and productions put on by theater troupes my friends would be trembling or refuse to go. It was nothing. Nothing!! They can’t DO anything to you!!
I always seemed so brave. I remember a friend in college asking what DOES scare you? And I was just laughing because I didn’t have an answer. What is there left?
What is there left?
I’ve been thrown in a hard dark tube with these windows put in that I couldn’t see out of but others could see in. It was pitch black in there, never known a more profound darkness. There was broken glass coating the bottom of the tube. Then the people outside the tube started rolling it around. I remember screaming refusing to be put in but they shoved me in anyways and rolled me around so I was being sliced on the glass shards, and I hated the dark and I hated their laughter. Cruel laughter in the dark. Then I woke up and went to school the next day and listened to the boys my friends liked and people gossip about how so and so was weird and how this certain style wasn’t fashionable. It would drive me insane.
Do you see how it drives me insane?
