Magic (184)

So the first thing that comes to my mind for this word is of course, Harry Potter. I was about  8 or 9 when I began the love for this series. I remember going to watch the first two films in the cinema with my parents and middle brother, and I very vividly remember the day that the 5th book in the series was released. My mum went to tescos with my middle brother and I, and on the very day it was released we each got our own copy of the book, and a bar of tesco value white chocolate (pocketcanadian will be making a puking gesture at this point because she hates white chocolate), and we went home, and I’m not sure about my brother, but I couldn’t have been happier. I went straight upstairs with the beautiful big hardback book with thick pages, and my bar of chocolate and sat on the wooden floor in my room under the window with my back against the wall, and was completely entranced by the book. I’m not completely sure whether I had read all of the other books up to that point, but I most definitely did from that moment on. I became quite obsessed with Hogwarts and Harry Potter. You probably wouldn’t realise it from afar – I didn’t talk non-stop about it, I didn’t wear Harry Potter costumes…but I did always, no matter what, carry one of the books (if not two if I was nearing the end of one of the books) with me at all times. And I mean all times. If I was going to school, to my grandparents, even in the car with one of my parents for just 5 minutes. Hogwarts was my safety net. It was love and misunderstanding and belonging, and finding a family where you believed you had none. It was home to me. This crazy imagined world with spells and dragons and wonderful half giants, and men with long beards and cloaks who love you before you even know who they are. I can’t put words exactly to what it is that made me feel such a connection to the books, but my favourite character was Sirius (and then Lupin), and of course Harry, and I think its probably clear from Harry’s lack of support and safety, and Sirius’ complete lack of belonging in his own cruel slytherin family, that the idea of not belonging in the family that you know, feeling unseen and unheard and out of place, as well as unsafe and unloved….I think that was a big part. But more importantly, how they found their own family – how they found a home and love and belonging that they never knew existed up to that point. There’s a lot in that I think.

So yeah….I would read the series non-stop. As soon as I was finished with one book I would move onto the next, and once I had finished the last book in the series (that being however far along in the series was released at that point) I would just go straight back to the beginning and start again. My books are so very battered these days. A couple of them sellotaped together. I used to just pick up the 4th and 5th books and read the last several chapters at night, when I was sad and needed to cry but couldn’t, needing a release. The death of Cedric and Molly’s mothering in the fourth book, and then Sirius’ death and the scene with Dumbledore in his office in the 5th book, were both scenes that could induce tears with me. Somebody who found it very hard to cry, but very much needing to given the things going on in my life at that time…these books offered an outlet for that. As well as offering so very much more.

I’m not too happy with J.K Rowling right now, but nevertheless, this series will always mean everything to me. It was the very thing that I latched onto and kept me moving forwards through all of the disgusting things happening to me. So this to end this post ❤

Dreams (358)

I hadn’t intended to click on this title in my drafts – it was the last one above the button to see more of the drafts – but actually it seems like a decent one to do today, because it sort of fits in with the last post I did on Hope, and also, because my dreams have been pretty terrible lately.

*****

So first off, dreaming for things, having broader dreams for my life, are hard. I’m not going to go into all of that again because its pretty much all in my last post, but yeah.

As for the dreaming that I do when I’m asleep…they’re bonkers generally. I always thought everybody remembered their dreams in intricate detail, but pocketcanadian was always surprised and kind of happy that when she asked about my dreams I would go off on a very long-winded story with lots of segues and anecdotes and plainly random twists and turns, because she remembered all of the intricate detail in her dreams too, unlike her family who thought it was very weird.

As a kid I would have a recurring dream that would alter somewhat, but on the whole stay the same. I still have the same dream from time to time. In it I’m at my parents house, in my bedroom with one or two of my dogs, and I would sense and then hear the people coming to attack us. Sometimes I would see their cars and vans coming up the drive, sometimes when I was older and driving myself, I would be driving to my parents to see them and come across these people down the track to our house. Every time in these dreams My parents would be killed, and sometimes my dogs too, and always, always, it was me that they were truly after. Me that they wanted to rape and then kill. Most of the times I would be in my bedroom and try to quiet the dogs and then climb out of my bedroom window, dog in tow, and run as fast as I can through the garden and into the fields. Often I would be chased, and at this point I would have to hide in the stream running through a little wooded area, trying my hardest to not scare my dog, and keep them quiet, sometimes unsuccessfully. In many dreams I would manage to run to my grandparents house which was close by, and with huge relief and also still heightened terror run in ready to tell them that my parents are dead and that they’re coming to get me, to call the police. Sometimes they would be alive and confused and I would have to hurry trying to lock all the windows and doors, never managing it in time….but normally, I would run into their house in equal parts panic and relief, only to see the men there, and them dead, waiting for my fate. And then I would wake up….covered in sweat and sometimes tears, heart racing out of my chest and still feeling the terror.

There are other versions of this one…where I turn into a miniature person so I can hide…where my dad lets them in….where my dad invites them so that he can sell me to them, where I hide in the house….where there are guns and shots and a fight at the house….

*****

Other recurring dreams include dying on a plane. (Fear of flying – obvious much)

Lately I keep having a dream about arguing with my dad, talking back as he goes off on his “mental health is bullshit, young people these days are pathetic, never had anything bad happen in their life, therapy is total crap, only soldiers know trauma etc.” rant, to ask him how he can be saying that to me, ask him how being raped by your brother at a young age is nothing, how that’s no big deal and to stop being so goddamn pathetic. Clearly my mind trying to process all of the things he has been saying to me lately, and my own desire to scream back at him rather than hold my tongue which is what I currently do, trying not to cry and not to let the shame roar inside me.

I’ve also been having ones where I tell somebody that has pretended to care and has asked questions about what is going on with me, that I was abused. Only to then go back and try to tell them more for them to say they aren’t interested, they don’t want to hear it. There’s a lot of shame brought up even thinking about those dreams.

*****

I think dreams are incredibly interesting – the way we process the things that happen in our day during REM sleep, the way that traumatic things go unprocessed and are “incorrectly filed”, how things like EMDR work to go back in time and process them at a later date. The brain is just amazing, and I’d love to learn more about the brain and trauma, how it all connects and works to keep us safe.