Violence
I don’t often have violent dreams. Or at least, not on this magnitude. Not where I’m the perpetator of the violence, exacting vengeance.
Most of the less unpleasant parts of the dream are lost to me now. I was upset enough by the dream I didn’t think I could write about it.
My family is in the process of adopting two young children, tow-headed creatures who have been ill-used in the foster system. The little boy is maybe four or five, and easily pulled along by his sister. He doesn’t say much. His sister is maybe 8 or 10, but she has a sad past. I don’t know exactly what happened, but she was abused, used as a prostitute or plaything for some rough neighborhood teens.
She is reserved, but seems happy enough to be finding a home with us. She seems older than she is.
I’m walking home with her and her brother. It’s getting quite dark. We’re living in an mix of the place I grew up in, but near a grungy city street.
The girl lags behind for a minute, and I don’t think. I tell her we’re going to go home, that she can catch up with us there.
After all, I can almost see where she’s standing, on the street, from our front door. I think she’ll be fine. So my guilt is even greater when I realize she’s not coming back.
Someone comes running to me, telling me the girl is being raped. I run as fast as I can, yelling for my dad to come as soon as I can.
In a scene separate from my first person point of view, I can see the girl was accosted by the people who used to abuse her. All teenagers, wearing lots of black leather, piercings. They all look like they never had anyone to love them either.
There are three boys and a girl, and they come up to her on either side. At first she ignores them, but then they taunt her for being taken in by a family, and betraying them. Though it’s clear that she was never a willing participant in anything they made her do.
As punishment, they begin stripping her clothes. I don’t see the rest in this shifting of view. I’m glad, I suppose.
Meanwhile, I’m running there, and as I get there, the kids are finishing up their business, pulling up pants.
The girl has been allowed to put her clothes back on. Her hair is messed, and she’s trying to neatly rearrange the poncho she was wearing. She looks upset, but she also seems to think that there’s nothing that could have been done. She was used to it.
I confront the kids. They jeer at me, tell me I can’t do anything about it, and they’ll do it again if they find her again.
The girl sits there mutely. I become enraged. I push first on the female member of the gang. She laughs at me, even as I thrash her. I throw her to the ground, beat her with something thin and black, which reminds me of a cat toy I have with fur on the end. It raises welts, and maybe even breaks skin. But there’s no blood. Even in this, the teens mock me. Because no matter how angry I get, how much force I use, they just laugh, and don’t bleed.
I proceed to the other members. My dad comes as I’m finishing with the last. The police are coming, but it’s my impression that when they do arrive, I won’t be in trouble. My dad does nothing to stop me from beating the leader, dressed in red plaid and studded leather. He thrashes with each stroke, but still manages to smile at me.
I started writing about this dream several days ago… I can look back at it now and see a sense of powerlessness, not only with the girl, but with myself. I’m powerless over my anger, and even when I use it, it does me no good. I hurt people terribly (but there is no blood) and instead, they laugh at me. I also feel responsible for not watching the girl closely enough.
I don’t know what this means. I know I was disturbed by it.
I know that I currently feel powerless in one aspect of my life. But that instead of using anger, I need to be proactive and take care of the situation. I have a tendency to be reactionary. To let my anger rise, to let people get to me. I’ve stayed in unhealthy situations before, long past when I should have because I have a high level of tolerance for BS, as I like to say. But I think the tolerance is decreasing with age, though certainly not with wisdom.
Tolerance for BS. That sounds all too familiar :). Well, whatever you’re facing at the moment, I wish you clarity about next steps. I deliberate right now some circumstances in my life, if they’re worth temporarily enduring for later outcomes–or not. In the process, I’ve also recalled past instances when it was time to stop enduring. Hard to know, isn’t it?
Thanks for your wishes. I know you’re going through a rough time too.
I kind of know what the next step could be. One is waiting it out — there’s a possible lower end time frame involved. Another is finding a positive way to take control or at least to become resigned to being powerless. Another is to search for another way out, which again has a longer time frame than I’d like. There’s no immediate way out — it’s just how I choose to deal with it in the interim, I suppose.
A vivid, disturbing dream. This is of the sort I usually forget, or rather try to forget but that stick in my head, forcing me to sort through the symbols for the underlying effect. But at least you’re being violent for a noble cause, though still to no effect.