Update. Summer Vaca

Not that serious of a post... I've got a sinus cold, baby daddy is behaving, kids are kicking my butt, summer can't end quick enough.. Not so many dreams lately, except for my nap today, THOSE sucked, but oh well....tiny update. I'll talk more when something relevant happens

Stupid

I have these thoughts, and I know they're stupid. It's late and my hands are weak, so this may be shorter than I care for.

In the past 6 months, I've been through quite a bit, so I'll be blunt. Here's what I'm thinking; I'm thinking that I must be a horrendous individual if all I ever dream is to be loved like he loved her. Many personal anecdotes that I get to listen to, and dream about. I'm jealous, not of the people in particular, but that I'm never good enough for that, but I'm good enough to be raped by someone I thought was my best friend, I'm good enough to be neglected, I'm good enough to be stood up on countless occasions, I'm good enough to work for little pay and still find worth in what I do. I'm good enough for all the worst in people and fixing them for their next conquest but I sit alone, hoping to be loved even once, without hate, without rape, abuse, neglect, disrespect, moral discord. I literally laugh at the term 'good man', because it's so far and few and between. I probably need counseling. I usually find value in myself but I'm not good enough for someone to make the effort or match my own. It's always good at first, but it fizzles off or true colors come out. The worst in people come find me, in the depths of despair and depression, taunting me, calling my name so loud that I cannot ignore it. I cannot let these words leave my lips, so from my weak fingers, they flow. I have truly given up the entire thought that I'll ever be anything more than someone's fuck toy. I guess I'll take what I can get. What can you do?

I may add to this tomorrow, not that anyone's listening to these ramblings of a mad woman.

Trigger Warning. I Wrote Down a Vivid Dream I Had...And It's Still Bugging Me

Trigger Warning. I had the dream the evening of the 9th of April 2018. I left out some sexual details because I was barely comfortable writing what I did. I think you get the gist though..

In the Right Place at the Right Time

As she fell asleep, she began her dreams dancing in the moonlit waves of the ocean in a fair colored dress, sparkling, barefoot with the man of her dreams to light jazz. Everything turned black and
she realized she was being transported to another place and time. As light entered her vision, she saw an old house, similar to a house she lived in long ago. It was pulling her in, so she gingerly walked
up to the door and knocked. A young woman opened the door, looking puzzled. “Hello, I’ve just arrived here, and something told me to come here” the young woman looked shocked and pulled her gently inside. 

“You’re an inventor, we’ve been expecting you, my dear” The young woman said with a smile.

“I’m not sure what that is, I’m a knitter for goodness sake! It’s certainly no sacred calling!” I replied, chuckling nervously.

“You are so much more--” she was interrupted by another knock on the door. “Hide in the bathroom,
you are not safe yet!” she hurried me towards the bathroom and I went inside and locked the door.
I hear voices, tempers are clearly rising. The young woman denying my existence, an older woman
insisting that I am there and she wants to see the fourth inventor. I’m scared and confused. Suddenly, loud, large footsteps come barreling past the bathroom door to where the other voices are. “Janice, she
isn’t here. You are not welcome here. Leave.” in a loud, stern, deep and gravelly voice. I am suddenly
grateful for these people and I’m not even sure why I’m being searched for.

Light footsteps approach the bathroom, “Dear, it’s me, you may come out, she’s gone”, I unlock the
door and step outside, cautiously.

“Okay, who are you? Why is she looking for me? What is going on? Last thing I remember is that I
was falling asleep with a lovely dream...not whatever this is!” I reply hastily.

The young woman grabs my hand gently, “I am Lydia, you have been transported to us, you will wake
back up in your own bed, but this is not a dream,” she continues, “The Goddess has chosen you to
further our progress and you are now crucial to the survival of mankind”

“I am Lucas, I am an inventor, as is Lydia, there’s one more, she’s out gathering supplies, shopping,
I think. It’s such a different time here, for me.” the man replies, a gentle smile coming from his rugged
but handsome face.

I stare at them, fear starting to set in, “I’m a knitter and a mom, I have no sacred” I head towards the
door, “calling and you people are nuts, this has to be a dream!!!” my hand is on the door knob and Lucas walks over, setting his back against the door. I shakily try to move him but he doesn’t budge.

 
Lydia approaches, “Dear, your first mission is near. We must get you ready.” her hands are out and
palms are to the ceiling, in a comforting way, her hand stretches out, “It’s best if you just dive in,
please come with me” and I take her hand and she leads me down a hall, in a darkly lit room. “Your first mission is to listen and don’t get caught. This is crucial. You’ll be transported to two different times and places and even an alternate universe. Stay in the shadows and listen. Do not get caught!” she leads
me to one of the beds in the room. They’re small twin beds that only hold one person, none are occupied so far. “Just fall asleep as you did before you arrived here, the Goddess will do the rest”, Lydia retreats slowly, closing the door behind her. I wonder if I’m going to fail this mission they’ve set for me. I lay in a bed, and I close my eyes, hoping that I’m making the right choice.

I wake up, standing on a staircase. The decor is modern and clean, the stairwell is dark and hiding me
from view. Two men approach, below, having a disagreement, I listen in.

“You don’t understand! The young woman was brilliant, the academy only had a problem with her loving another girl! It’s ludicrous! I loved her but I knew she loved another. I was going to speak to her and warn her but her room was being raided as I approached, I could only watch in horror. She had created this life sized doll of the one she was in love with, she was naked, laying on the couch, peacefully. It’s as if this doll was real, and only in repose from intimacy with Carmela, it was like she was actually there. I don’t think they had actually.. But drawings of the young woman in question were scattered throughout Carmela’s room. There were other drawings, too, but they didn’t care about those. The academy police ransacked her entire room, tearing apart the doll she created, the young woman’s mother was distraught that her daughter had been a model of this supposed ‘freak’, they could hardly control the woman! She kept reaching out for Carmela, but they restrained her. Carmela tried to run but she too was restrained, stripped in front of everyone and handcuffed. All of Carmela’s work was being destroyed and they were dehumanizing her, I just knew she’d be expelled and punished further, all because she chose to follow her heart,” the man’s voice is starting to break, “I just stood there as this poor girl’s life was destroyed, I’ve tried chalk scribing to her, but no response, I fear she may have jumped realities, or… worse. Daven, you don’t think they would have…” his voice trailed off, sniffling lightly. His friend sighed putting a hand on his shoulder.

“I don’t think they would have, but she went against the rules. I don’t agree with them either, but we
have to keep our place here, if we’re going to fix this. We’ll find her, we’ll get her back.” he replies,
attempting to reassure the upset man. A sudden drowsiness hits me like a ton of bricks, and my eyes
close on their own, nothing but darkness, again. 

I wake up in a joint bathroom, the one where the shower and the toilet are separated by a sliding door,
but technically in the same room. I hear heavy breathing from where I suppose the toilet is, and I’m
naked, getting out of the shower. The room is old, like I’m in an old Western or something. Windows
in the bathroom, old styled curtains, complete opposite from the place that I came from. I look down
to see my slender caramel body glistening from the moisture, and I hear him speak. “Come on, I need
to tell you something!” his voice is shaky as if he’d been drinking, but I approach him slowly,
curious. “Get me some of that medicine the doctor sent over,” motioning towards the medicine cabinet
above the sink. 

I walk over to the sink, reaching above it to open the door to the small cabinet, as I reach up, I hear him grunt in pleasure, “The small bottle, sir?”

“Yes, now hurry up,” he replied roughly, grabbing my waist and sitting me on top of him. He finishes
situating me upon himself which is a task in itself with his large stomach and large legs. “Pour it down,
and let’s get this done!” as I pour it, he fondles me, I try not to vomit. My panic is setting in, this isn’t
what I signed up for! I feel his manhood swell below me. He picks me up, turns me around, lifts one
of my legs, spits on himself and starts to penetrate me, he lets my leg drop and holds onto my waist,
rough and quick, he keeps going. “Now, I know I can trust you,” his breath reeking of the whiskey
he must have consumed not that long ago, “Belle, but don’t tell the President, I’m com-” he grunts,
but continues, “I’m coming for,” he’s breathless, “I’m coming for him, and you can’t te-” he grabs my
throat, “tell him. Got it?” he continues to pound my tiny body “I’ve hired someone be-” he thrusts more, I’m grimacing at the pain, “because I hate the sight of blood,” more thrusting and grunting, I grab at his hand on my throat, trying to remove it, “Stop struggling, it’ll go faster!” he yells, and he goes even faster, tears forming in my eyes “I paid good money to borrow you from him and I’m going to get my money’s worth!!” he screams in ecstasy, and I breathe a sigh of relief, which is short lived. He gets up, still hands back to death gripping my hips, shoving me against the bathroom wall. He pushes himself into my rear and I gasp, as he continues to thrust, I am sobbing and he covers my mouth with one of his grubby, nasty hands. I shudder as he continues pounding away. Tears streaming down my face, he removes himself from my rear and sticks it back in my front, pounding even harder “You like that, don’t ya???” as his hand that was covering my mouth grabs my hair and forces a nod in agreement, he keeps thrusting. Both hands wander across my body, coming to my breasts, he grabs them and uses them as leverage to keep pounding me. He’s not stopping and I wonder what was in that little bottle I fed him. “Whatever you do, don’t tell that dick of a President that he’s got it coming next week when you go back to him, I’m gonna fuck you up so good that he won’t know what to do with you!” and I black out.

I wake up, crying, hearing the door burst open, Lydia walks in, looking concerned. She walks over and
embraces me, as if she knew. “Honey, that was rough, but you have to tell us everything you heard,
if you want, you can write or type it out, but we need to know.” she says quietly.


I woke up in my own bed, as promised, this morning. And that is how this story was written down in
the first place.

She Who Creates...

I've attempted to stay busy to keep things off of my mind but stress and worry are starting to show. I can't seem to find anything in particular that works for me, so far. Being alone with my thoughts isn't helping. My business is pleasant enough and I want to make it grow, but I'm currently overwhelmed by a mere blanket. I guess I am just going to start over, yet again... ugh. People who I end up telling what happened are feeling sorry for me and pitying me.. No, I just want understanding. He's not the charming, sweet, kind person you think he is. Stay away from him.

Also...I'd like to create more things, but I want to make clothing... Models are far and few between.. at least, getting ladies to show up. Who doesn't want free clothing? Apparently nobody.. I guess I'll be creating for myself for lack of better people to create for.

My son has taken to violent tantrums lately. I thought they started when I kicked his father out (the man who was my supposed to have been my best friend but he violated me), but my mom thinks they started before my son realized that he wasn't coming back..who knows, but I took away all his toys away today, so maybe there will be some change in the coming days.

I guess I'll start off with How I feel.

In the coolness of the night, I think to myself, 'How did I let this happen?', 'Why did he do this to me, after everything we've been through together?', 'He knows what I've been through...how could he still do this to me?'

An assault of self blame, worthlessness, shame, so much shame, self destruction and pain is my every day. I keep myself busy, attempting to assuage the raw salt being forced into open wounds. I consider options to numb the pain, as my ankle is still healing and exercise is not a good idea, quite yet. Options and things that aren't quite me, but I've been traumatized and I am struggling to function with every day life. I throw myself into work. My friends and boyfriend are concerned. They don't know the secrets I hold. I feel used, and disgusting. I feel angry at this betrayal, I feel ugly and weak. I'm stressed but that doesn't begin to help my absymal thoughts.

I'm angry because he blamed me for this. It was my fault for always being so wishy washy. I've changed my mind in the past, why not now? I said 'no sex, tonight', and he proceeded to go in dry, painful and finish. He was supposed to have been my friend but he was so angry that I had moved on, he was taking what he felt he deserved. I had said no, I was fully clothed, he and I were close, yet according to him, it's my fault.. I know, logically, technically, it was his fault, but I can't help how heartbroken and ashamed that I didn't have the muscle power to fight back. I'm angry I didn't scream at him, I just prayed to the Gods that it would end quickly. It took me several days to process all of this.. I didn't want to think that the unthinkable had occurred.. but it had. My best friend raped me, in my own bed, because he wasn't getting his way, like an impetulant child.