A Cathartic Nightmare

Life is stressful at the moment. I’m in the hardest semester of my program, and nothing is spaced out. Either I have one assignment in a week, or I have three exams and a paper due. There’s no in-between. This last week was one of the tough ones, and I was really feeling the strain despite starting to study for my exams two weeks in advance. My PTSD started making a bit of a comeback after its six month hiatus… and I got sick. Luckily, I made it through all of my exams just fine.

I think the combination of PTSD and my fever led to the… interesting dreams I had. The first fever dream was wonderful. I was in a room full of friendly kittens and had them all to myself.

The second dream, meanwhile, started off as a nightmare and ended with me being triumphant.  I was at some kind of art festival and caught sight of N — the guy who is mainly responsible for my PTSD. So of course I immediately have a PTSD episode/ panic attack and have to get the heck out of there.

I collect myself and a few minutes later I’m back in the crowd… where I run into him again. This time he sees me and tries to catch up with me like we’re old friends. Dream-me just wasn’t having it. Before he even finished his first sentence, I interrupted. “Leave me the fuck alone,” I said. He hasn’t changed a bit, because he can’t take a hint even if it’s dancing naked in front of him. So he keeps on talking like he hadn’t even heard me.

So then I did what, in the dream, felt like the only logical way to respond. I punched him. In the face.

As he got up from the ground holding his jaw, he said “Bitch.”

“If standing up for myself makes me a bitch, then thanks for the compliment,” I replied with a smirk.

While I do consider myself a pacifist who would never hurt another physically except in self defense, a part of me likes the idea of enacting a bit of revenge on N. It’ll never happen, but at least it put a smile on my face.

 

Thanks for reading this post. You can find my backstory here.

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