2008-10-22 - 6:08 p.m.
Jack's Recurring Nightmares Of His Antagonist
Yesterday in therapy, I told my therapist that I realized there will probably never be a time in my life, when I am not having nightmares about the Old Antagonist.
I have been having them since I was a kid.
And I will probably be having them forever.
She agreed.
I probably will be.
The sad part about all of this is, when I was a kid, I had an easier time waking up and realizing it was just a dream.
I laid in bed as still as I could, feeling my heart pounding in my chest. Afraid to move a muscle for what sometimes seemed like hours. Especially if I had woken with that tingling sense of falling that followed so many of my childhood nightmares.
This was years before I began shooting up in bed.
Years before the only way I could get to sleep some nights was to sleep sitting up, back propped against pillows.
The Antagonist himself told me that he found my sleeping stare disturbing. Some mornings he found me sitting there. Sleeping eyes open. Staring unconsciously at him. Like some permanantly traumatized wax museum corpse.
He closed the door. Wondering what went wrong. What the fuck is wrong with him anyway?
This was about the same time I was convinced that he wanted to kill me. That he fantasized about it. Secretly. But somehow I knew.
Get him in his sleep.
No one will ever have to know.
No one really seemed to believe me.
But my convictions were serious. The way I felt him staring at him hatefully when he thought I was sleeping. That feeling that someone is looking at you, but threatening and menacing on a level that can only be described as instinctual. That or delusional and paranoid.
Years later I am still having nightmares about him trying to kill me.
A few nights ago, I had that recurring dream that I am living both at home, and here at Little Paper Street. I have two homes. Two lives.
In the dream, even though I have left the Antagonist's house, I still have a bed there, and some things. I still live there on extended stays as if it were still my home. Though almost everything I have is here.
Each dream is a little different. But something always happens that sends him into a rage. He tries to intimidate, control and own me. He tries to force me to do something, the way he always used to.
Only this time, I say no.
This time, he wanted to examine every book and CD I owned because he suspected I was bringing profane things into the house. Surprisingly this never happened (in real life), but it was something his brother did to my cousins.
In the dream, I yelled "This is bullshit. I don't even live here anymore!"
I realized that he had no more power or control over me. I wondered why I was even spending any more time here, when I had a much better home free from him.
I then told him that I am taking the last of my things and I am leaving. For good. I am never coming back.
This always illicits an almost murderous violent response. Next he either tries to kill me or proceeds to beat me.
In this dream, I was at the small wall at the end of the hallway, about to step into my stripped down room. Before continuing, I pulled out my pocket knife because I had no idea what he might try to do. If he came anywhere near me, I was going to stab him in the ribs. Right through the slats. Hopefully into his lung if my blade was long enough.
Only he caught me by surprise and slammed me against the wall. Pinning me by a handful of my shirt. Trying to break my ribs with his other hand.
I could see his face in mine. Red. Glossy. Contorted. Evil.
The face of the devil. Of Evil itself.
I felt all of the hair on my body. Raised. Electric and on end.
The way I always did in real life when he got in my face.
I felt that funny electric tingling way all your blood seemed to be leaving you at the same time.
I could feel his fingers digging between my ribs. Trying to pry them apart and break them.
With almost no breath left, I gasped to him "Go ahead. Then we can call an ambulance and tell them how it happened."
I said this almost like a smaller disadvantaged Tyler. Smirking in the face of his own death.
I never could have said something like that in real life.
And I never would have.
The dream ended there.
With him trying to break me. With me taunting him to go ahead.
Continued...
Jack's Christmas Letter To His Asshole Uncle - 2008-12-08
Jack Is Still Fighting His Antagonist (2) - 2008-10-22
Jack Is Still Fighting His Antagonist - 2008-10-22
Jack's Recurring Nightmares Of His Antagonist (2) - 2008-10-22
