awesome ultimate expert hen (mdyesowitch) wrote,
awesome ultimate expert hen
mdyesowitch

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Unknitting the ravelled care of time

I know the subject line makes no sense. I think I'm quoting Shakespere, badly. I blame it on the fact that I would be asleep right now if it weren't for the hysterical screaming of the protagonist in my dream.

I was working two contract jobs in Texas. Most of the dream details were oblithered by the next dream (which hopfully I'll remember after I've written up this one) but it mostly centered around transportation to the job which was done via long subway or monorail lines. I knew I was dreaming because at the second job, when I was switching to the East train. (really, that's all it was called) I came in one level below, and called for the elevator, while I oriented myself to the unfamiliar station. I think most of the times I came in, I came in the same station, but I'd been at a differnet starting point this previous night, so I came in on a different train to a different level. I remembered it circled the building. That was lovely. We were many, many stories out, and the city was stretched out below us like a treasure. Thinking about it, I think the station was in Texas, but the job might have been in Arizona, and that was why the train station was just labled east. Because all Eastbound destinations were reached on that train.
Wow. I feel like the meaninging of this one is so close, but so out of my reach.
I also remember at some point realizing that I hadn't told my job I was talking a week off to do these two contracts.


In an obvious metaphore that I don't really understand, my parents, hoppie and I were heading to the Falls of the Ohio. Initially we were in a car. Then as we were stuck in traffic on the bridge to Indiana (where the Falls exhibit is actually located) we made some kind of deal with someone to do something. We had a combined total of about 60$ to do whatever, but mom argued whoever it was down to 20$. Then dad took 30$ to give to her. This left Mom a) driving and b) irritated. There was some discussion of whether we would need to get money or gas. I pointed out that we had plenty enough gas, and if we ran out of money we could use plastic. Mom was very skeptial. Traffic was insanely heavy. Did I mention that dad ended up jumping out of the car while it was moving because Mom couldn't not start moving when the other cards did. At least they were moving slowly.
Then we weren't in a car anymore, we were in a shuttle of some type. I moved to sit where dad was sitting, so I could watch his briefcase. Hoppie and Mom stayed where they were. This guy, who I did not find that attractive, but actually rather creepy, moved to sit next to me.
As he started talking, I reached into my purse for the book I was reading, so I could ignore the creepy feeling of him looking at me.
He said, "Sex is important."
I said, "Mhhhm." By this point I'd extracated my book completely from my bad and started to open it to where I'd left off, thinking to myself, "Why do I have this insane addiction to Harlequin Blaze novels. Now I'm in a position where a creepy guy who thinks enough about sex to start a conversation about it with the only female under 50 around here is sitting next to you, watching you read a book designed to feature sex. Could you have planned this a little better?" I blush and try to focus on the book while he keeps talking.
He said, "I like sex. Sex is important. Most people don't realize how important sex really is, don't you agree?"
My mother is sitting directly in front of me. I am completely freaked out reading a racy romance novel.
I said, "yes, very important." thinking "trying to ignore you. Please let me ignore you."
He continues talking, but I've stopped listening. I close my book, pick up dad's briefcase and my purse, and move to sit next to my mother. Bam, we're in a car again. So is everyone on the shuttle. (which was really mom, me hoppie, and two other guys).
Mom is chatting with the guys about the need to not scare the little girls, she'd much calmer than I would have expected. She's also driving again, which she wasn't on the shuttle, and she's driving quite erratically. The next conversation is punctuated by my warning my mother to not driving into walls, as we hit a construction zone and cross the bridge in to Indiana, except not, because it turns out we're going to some other place in KY, so the whole bridge crossing river thing really makes no sense. But whatever. We get there and disembark through a candy shop. I hold the door open for everyone and remark to hoppie that he'll have to try it and compare KY fudge to NE. I lose track of them in the building, because apparently my mother is too impatient to wait for me, and hoppie was trying to stay close enough between us that I wouldn't lose them, but then I did. There were four options. The path to my right leading on to a skyway to I don't know where. The corridore in front of me, leading down a hall in the same building. Or one of the two doors to my left, one to an empty classroom, and the other to a class in session. I see one of the men on the shuttle go into the classroom and I follow. When I come out, moments later, I'm with two women, my aunt and my legal guardian who is some sort of blood relative of my fiance, which sorta makes her kin to me. My fiance is dead and they are arranging my next marriage. They've been arguing for hours. They don't care what happens to me, they only care about trying to save the family name, and I'm ruined for having slept with my fiance. How will they ever get me off their hands, but how can they not take responsibility for me? I see him in the classroom. It's empty but for him and the aunts and me. They're still arguing. I kiss him. He kisses me. Fire. Passion. His eyes soften for me. He holds me. He deepens the kiss. This. Is. What. I. Want. I feel it with every beat of my heart, in every corner of my body. He wants me too. He tells me he will marry me. They don't here him. They refuse to notice him. They drag me out of the room, still listing the men I will marry. There's mail, with marriage offers they won't look at. I pick them up. We walk down the skyway path. They refuse to listen. They always refuse to listen. But this is my life! They don't have to live with the consequences of their decsion, every damn day for the rest of their lives. I'm screaming. Screaming at the top of my lungs. Telling them how my fiance at at 17 raped me at 9. How I loved him. Slavishly addicted to him. How he molded me into his little sex darling and groomed me to be his perfect obedient wife. But he's dead now. DEAD. DEAD. DEAD. And I'm alive. And I'm free, for the first time. And I want to chose now, instead of someone else making the choice for me. And I choose him. I show them the letters. Offers from him. Discosures of property, dowery. The chance for me to be wanted. I'm still screaming at the top of my lungs. So much so that I wake myself up.
Tags: dream
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