Nightmares Suck

 

The nightmares have been brutal these last few weeks.  Some of them are same old that I always have then there are some that are more vivid and are more like the effects of what happened and how no one stepped up to do the right thing. There were clearly signs that I wasn't ok, and no one cared. The ones that are the most disturbing are the ones with blood. I am sure that it wasn't as much as the things I see in my nightmares. It is almost like its screaming at someone to see me, see what happened!   Yet all the people around ignore and look the other way. 

The one from last week that I have had a few times in different variations, is such a picture of what things were like.  I am sitting on these bleachers, basically wrapped in a trench coat covering myself.  I move and there is blood where I was sitting, I am in a panic and of course have to try to clean it up before anyone comes.  I start walking toward a group of people and the blood just follows,  its all over the floor like a trail. People see it then look at me and keep walking.  Story of my life. I finally go over to woman and tell her that I have to leave that I need help and she just keeps laughing with the others at the table.  I am embarrassed and just want to fade away, I try to get near a few people, and they don't see me or see that I am hurt and need help.  I finally go over to someone, and I tell them I have to go to the emergency room.  I just walk away.  I see that bruised body, beaten and cuts everywhere.  Like everywhere I turn I am trying to get help and no one will see me.  I really hate these kinds of dreams.  

I am right in the middle of one of the ugliest years in my life. I should have died but life never stopped no one ever made me feel better . All they did was try to cover it up, point fingers and make it my fault.  The world didn't skip a single beat,  and somewhere deep down if even for a short time I wished the world stopped and at least acknowledged what happened to me.  I would never expect everyone's world to stop, but I feel like for my parents their world should have stopped until I was taken care of.  Their world should have stopped and found out what happened to me and made sure that I got all the help that was needed. They should have stood up for me, telling all those people to stop the blaming and shaming and support.  Those things didn't happen.  I was just left to figure everything out on my own.  The bruises right now are really bad.  And I can't blame it on, moving furniture or violent furniture.  I have to hope that before I know it they will lessen.  Before i know it I can wake up in the morning without feeling the effects of running all night.  Fighting for my life.  It will always blow my mind, that a person can wake up feeling what happened all these years later.  Someday someway I will sleep safe and sound.