Why I remember my dreams
He stands above me, that blade in his hand. There is the faint light of winter, fighting the early darkness that comes in through the rectangular windows over my head.
I can smell him. Rusty penny blood smell and a pungent sweet grainy scent of metabolizing alcohol. He breathes it into my mouth, around my face, into my hair when he bites my lip. His smile is twisted and cruel. He wears it more than any expression in his short time with me. He celebrates my tears, his ability to cause them. He celebrates my body tightening around his implement and that I have no control.
I watch a sequin from my dress float along a bloody pool toward the drain in the floor, and it stops short.
I awake, the whirring of the ceiling fan above competing with the air conditioning and the soft noises of sleep from the person next to me. The safety I know, versus the horror I knew. Somewhere in the expanse between the two is a guilt. A guilt of assumption. Assuming that I may have prevented another woman’s nightmare by having the bravery to speak. Assuming that I did not do all that I could.
That I am not doing all that I can.
July 2nd, 2008 at 5:04 pm
I’m so sorry that you’re assuming that you’re not doing all you can…From where I sit, it looks as if you are. Sometimes even the smallest steps have the biggest implications…keep trying to move forward.
July 2nd, 2008 at 5:17 pm
You’re doing all you can now. You do more by talking about it, by your openness, than you realize.
July 2nd, 2008 at 5:34 pm
You cannot assume the guilt for something that you had no control over – what happened to you or what he went on to do to another woman.
You are doing all that you can *now*, and that is truly amazing.
xoxo
July 2nd, 2008 at 5:42 pm
You make the place so tangible, and even in the jump from dream to not — we stay with you as though we were in both places, too. Powerful writing. Once again. But you must know that.
July 2nd, 2008 at 6:24 pm
Never make assumptions. Never. We are inevitably wrong when we do.
This love, was a terrifying picture made so clear by words.
July 2nd, 2008 at 6:46 pm
From where I sit, you are doing all you can now. I do not pretend to understand what you went through, but you seem to be so darn hard on that poor teen aged girl who went through hell. You are strong and you are brave. Hugs to you.
July 2nd, 2008 at 6:58 pm
Maybe you did do and are doing all that you can.
July 2nd, 2008 at 7:37 pm
oh honey. you are speaking now and that is the bravest thing ever.
{{hugs}}
July 2nd, 2008 at 7:39 pm
You are a survivor. You fought then. You are fighting now.
July 2nd, 2008 at 8:30 pm
if you aren’t doing all you can then no one is, woman.
July 2nd, 2008 at 8:40 pm
oh honey. you do so much and i know your words here are reaching to women, even if they don’t reach out themselves. xo
July 2nd, 2008 at 9:27 pm
Hugs, dear one.
July 2nd, 2008 at 9:49 pm
I disagree. I think you did all you could. Perhaps an older woman, a woman with more support, could have done more, but in surviving, finding a life, and now using your words, you did a great deal.
July 2nd, 2008 at 10:08 pm
Oh, Flutter. It is what you do now that matters to so many of your readers, perhaps lots of lurkers who share a similar horrific event in their lives.
I really don’t know what else you could have done.
July 2nd, 2008 at 10:30 pm
Never underestimate what you’re achieving with the power of your words and honesty in this blog. Never.
July 3rd, 2008 at 12:02 am
Emily said what I would have, but better.
And your voice is true and loud, and it may be another’s salvation. I venture to guess that you’ve helped more people than you may ever know.
July 3rd, 2008 at 12:11 am
For me the safety you managed to create and is still creating that allows you the space to breathe and heal and share – that is more than enough. It is you now. Unfurling-ly beautiful and inspiring.
You are changing me because you are you.
July 3rd, 2008 at 5:15 am
I think you did all you could. Survival comes first, heroism is optional, or delayed. You are being heroic now.
July 3rd, 2008 at 5:51 am
Oh Flutter, you are doing more than I think you realise.
I wish I could take it away for you, the guilt and the dreams. You don’t deserve either.
July 3rd, 2008 at 5:55 am
Your bravery in writing about such a terrifying, horrifying experience is amazing, flutter. There is no blame to place for not being able to open yourself to being brutalized all over again had you reported it…none.
July 3rd, 2008 at 6:11 am
You are amazing. Don’t let your brain tell you otherwise.
July 3rd, 2008 at 6:12 am
oh, but i think you are doing all you can.
July 3rd, 2008 at 6:14 am
you’re doing the good things, you just need the other half of this oreo cookie of love.
July 3rd, 2008 at 7:57 am
I’ll chime in that I think you are going above and beyond. There is more to this than so many people can understand, so many conflicting emotions that flit around in your head, sometimes faster than you have a chance to really analyze it or put it on paper. Just know that everything other than you taking care of yourself is optional. Wonderful, yes. But still, optional.
July 3rd, 2008 at 9:22 am
If I could just scoop you up….
You were just a girl. Don’t blame that girl for not speaking up, she was doing all she could, she was surviving. And she DID survive and she grew into a beautiful woman who speaks now, freely and honestly, giving others the freedom to do that same.
July 3rd, 2008 at 10:42 am
I think that you’re doing as much as you could do.
July 3rd, 2008 at 11:15 am
Oh God. You are. You ARE doing all you can.
You are braver than anyone I’ve ever met, period. We are ALL proud of you here.
Sending love.
July 3rd, 2008 at 11:17 am
This is so painfully obvious I almost hate to ask. So, you never reported this. Why can’t you report it now. This is never too late, I would think. It can never be too late. (I am so sorry for you…do my tears for you mean anything? I hope a little.)
July 3rd, 2008 at 2:50 pm
Oh sweetie, why are you still feeling guilt? I wish I could take it from you. I wish you knew that regardless of what anyone does, they don’t deserve what you went through. You don’t deserve it. You are sharing your story here and that is enough.
{{HUGS}}
July 3rd, 2008 at 2:50 pm
Sweet Jesus. Don’t you think just surviving maybe was all you could manage at the time? Would you be so hard on another victim?
July 3rd, 2008 at 3:07 pm
What happened was horrific. However you choose to deal with it, you are brave. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise, even yourself.
July 3rd, 2008 at 4:25 pm
If you ever start listening to yourself when you think you’re not doing enough, reread your blog comments. You are doing so much.
July 3rd, 2008 at 6:09 pm
You are doing far more than you realize. Every word you share about this horror helps someone else find teh courage to endure and flourish in spite of it.
You are doing so much.
July 4th, 2008 at 7:53 am
You are not the guilty one here in any way, shape or form. You have reacted just as you had to under the circumstances; please don’t second guess yourself, just continue to heal…
July 5th, 2008 at 1:21 pm
I know I can’t speak from the experience you have had because I’ve not been there… but I don’t know what more you could be doing. From my perspective, you have grown and changed by leaps and bounds and really the only thing you can do is keep on living the best life you can.
July 5th, 2008 at 8:56 pm
oh, sugar – the regret. it’s so hard not to regret it. that’s so much a part of it, and so impossible to divorce oneself from.
but you needn’t regret any aspect of something that was not your fault.
(yeah. i know. easy to say, but another thing entirely to believe. but maybe i can make myself believe it from telling it to you, and maybe, someday, similar things will occur for you, too.)
love.
July 6th, 2008 at 4:46 pm
the words fall short of being useful or helpful, flutter.
you’re doing it. you’re doing it. right here. right now.
July 6th, 2008 at 5:19 pm
It’s all been said above but, babe, you needn’t take responsibility for the horrible, horrifying decisions that man made.
July 9th, 2008 at 7:02 pm
I’ve been MIA and holy-hell, how I’ve missed your writing, flutter. You are amazing.