This is what happens when I can't sleep. My mind is always going a million miles a minute!
Warning, right off the bat, this might be a bit graphic and hard to read. You don't have to read it, really you don't. I am sharing because the survivors that I have recently come to know, need to know that is okay to talk about what happened. That they did nothing wrong. That no matter if their family or mother's believe them -- IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT. You were a child and there was nothing that you could do.
I have very vivid dreams. To the point where it's like watching a movie while I am a sleep. I can remember details down to the color of clothing, eyes, birthmarks, etc....the most finite details are remembered specifically.
Many years ago I drempt that my brother was in a motorcycle accident and drove into a tree. The next day got the call, it wasn't a pole, but a pole. This is one of many, what seem to be, coincidences.
Dreams this week are the same. They are real, they are vivid, and they
really get you thinking, second guessing, and wondering what is really going
on.
Thought I would share one dream from this week -- mainly because it was like watching a re-run of an old television show. It was my life being replayed in my dreams. I sometimes wonder what the purpose of my dreams are. I feel like there should be a reason for them, or at least some of them, good, bad, or otherwise.
This is my dream -- and this is a true story to what happened. I realized as I was thinking through the dream today, that I had forgotten these events, or just blocked them out and not referenced them in a very long time.
Setting: 1987, Germany, in the city of Ludwigsburg. I was in the 7th grade.
We lived on the economy. When you are in the miliarty overseas, but live off base, that is called the economy. We lived in officer housing and had to drive 10 miles or so to get to the base (if I remember correctly). At the time we had a Dodge van.
I won't ever forget that van. It was one of the box types of vans. It had seats in the back, a table, curtains, etc. This van travelled us all over Europe. But this van also held a lot of secrets. Twice a week I would either be going to soccer practice or softball practice. He would load me in the van, have my brother stay home with my mother. He would then park on the side of the field and watch my every move.
Practice was only an hour long, but my father told my mother it was hour and half. When I would get done with my practice. I would get back in the van and he would say: "Time for games daddy plays". I cringed. I knew what that meant and they were not games that I enjoyed. He would go towards the community garden plots and park. They were dark areas that no one really frequented at night.
He closed the curtains in the van and assured that the lights were off. Then the games would begin. I was to close my eyes and he would count to 100 as he forced his private area to my mouth. I would clench as tight as I could as the tears ran down my face. Another game was play being a model. He forced me to strip down so that he could sit across the van from me and masterbate. I again would close my eyes tight, not wanting to see anything and tears streamed down my face. There were many other sexual games that he would play/force me to do. Some included hand-jobs, intercourse, oral-sex, you name it. He would work hard at making the games seem "normal" or I guess "normal" in my world.
I was in 7th grade and I was athletic--pretty strong for 7th grade. He looked like Jack Sprat, not much to him, maybe weighted a buck and a quarter.
My point to all this is not that I couldn't have forced my way out away, to run, etc....but that he was the adult and I was the child -- and what I have come to realized is that I did nothing wrong. Not one thing. These games that he would play--continued to happen because he was the adult and he was in control.
He would threaten that if I told that I would never see my mother again, that I would go into a childrens home and that he would go away for a long time. Then other times he would convince me that this is the way things worked in every family. Not sure why I never asked someone if their dad's did the same things.
I don't know why exactly that this dream came about, but all I can think of is that I needed to share the story, that someone out there has been through the same thing and needed to know -- it's going to be okay. You are going to be okay. You are loved and you are strong and you can do this thing called life.
There are days that are very very lonely....even with people around. The mind is a powerful thing and these memories don't seem to go away. But you get to a point where you can access them when you want and leave them on the shelf when you don't.
So these games that daddy would play.....were horrible, violent (even though not physically violent), controlling, manipulative, and calculated. He did these day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year.
And no matter what, it wasn't my fault. I didn't do anything to deserve any of it, I didn't do anything to ask for it, I WAS THE CHILD. And so I say to you.....you were the chld and YOU ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE.....you did nothing wrong.
You can be bigger than what happened to you and continue on this journey called life and survive, love people, and be fulfilled!!! Pedophiles / offenders no longer have control when you break free. Even though our minds might tell us differently!
I am proud of each and everyone of you. And please, please, please....don't keep your voices quiet. Stand up and share, stand up for what is right, there might be one thing that you say, that will change someones life forever.
Love to you all, praying for lives to be changed.
-P
Warning, right off the bat, this might be a bit graphic and hard to read. You don't have to read it, really you don't. I am sharing because the survivors that I have recently come to know, need to know that is okay to talk about what happened. That they did nothing wrong. That no matter if their family or mother's believe them -- IT WASN'T YOUR FAULT. You were a child and there was nothing that you could do.
I have very vivid dreams. To the point where it's like watching a movie while I am a sleep. I can remember details down to the color of clothing, eyes, birthmarks, etc....the most finite details are remembered specifically.
Many years ago I drempt that my brother was in a motorcycle accident and drove into a tree. The next day got the call, it wasn't a pole, but a pole. This is one of many, what seem to be, coincidences.
Dreams this week are the same. They are real, they are vivid, and they
really get you thinking, second guessing, and wondering what is really going
on.
Thought I would share one dream from this week -- mainly because it was like watching a re-run of an old television show. It was my life being replayed in my dreams. I sometimes wonder what the purpose of my dreams are. I feel like there should be a reason for them, or at least some of them, good, bad, or otherwise.
This is my dream -- and this is a true story to what happened. I realized as I was thinking through the dream today, that I had forgotten these events, or just blocked them out and not referenced them in a very long time.
Setting: 1987, Germany, in the city of Ludwigsburg. I was in the 7th grade.
We lived on the economy. When you are in the miliarty overseas, but live off base, that is called the economy. We lived in officer housing and had to drive 10 miles or so to get to the base (if I remember correctly). At the time we had a Dodge van.
I won't ever forget that van. It was one of the box types of vans. It had seats in the back, a table, curtains, etc. This van travelled us all over Europe. But this van also held a lot of secrets. Twice a week I would either be going to soccer practice or softball practice. He would load me in the van, have my brother stay home with my mother. He would then park on the side of the field and watch my every move.
Practice was only an hour long, but my father told my mother it was hour and half. When I would get done with my practice. I would get back in the van and he would say: "Time for games daddy plays". I cringed. I knew what that meant and they were not games that I enjoyed. He would go towards the community garden plots and park. They were dark areas that no one really frequented at night.
He closed the curtains in the van and assured that the lights were off. Then the games would begin. I was to close my eyes and he would count to 100 as he forced his private area to my mouth. I would clench as tight as I could as the tears ran down my face. Another game was play being a model. He forced me to strip down so that he could sit across the van from me and masterbate. I again would close my eyes tight, not wanting to see anything and tears streamed down my face. There were many other sexual games that he would play/force me to do. Some included hand-jobs, intercourse, oral-sex, you name it. He would work hard at making the games seem "normal" or I guess "normal" in my world.
I was in 7th grade and I was athletic--pretty strong for 7th grade. He looked like Jack Sprat, not much to him, maybe weighted a buck and a quarter.
My point to all this is not that I couldn't have forced my way out away, to run, etc....but that he was the adult and I was the child -- and what I have come to realized is that I did nothing wrong. Not one thing. These games that he would play--continued to happen because he was the adult and he was in control.
He would threaten that if I told that I would never see my mother again, that I would go into a childrens home and that he would go away for a long time. Then other times he would convince me that this is the way things worked in every family. Not sure why I never asked someone if their dad's did the same things.
I don't know why exactly that this dream came about, but all I can think of is that I needed to share the story, that someone out there has been through the same thing and needed to know -- it's going to be okay. You are going to be okay. You are loved and you are strong and you can do this thing called life.
There are days that are very very lonely....even with people around. The mind is a powerful thing and these memories don't seem to go away. But you get to a point where you can access them when you want and leave them on the shelf when you don't.
So these games that daddy would play.....were horrible, violent (even though not physically violent), controlling, manipulative, and calculated. He did these day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year.
And no matter what, it wasn't my fault. I didn't do anything to deserve any of it, I didn't do anything to ask for it, I WAS THE CHILD. And so I say to you.....you were the chld and YOU ARE NOT RESPONSIBLE.....you did nothing wrong.
You can be bigger than what happened to you and continue on this journey called life and survive, love people, and be fulfilled!!! Pedophiles / offenders no longer have control when you break free. Even though our minds might tell us differently!
I am proud of each and everyone of you. And please, please, please....don't keep your voices quiet. Stand up and share, stand up for what is right, there might be one thing that you say, that will change someones life forever.
Love to you all, praying for lives to be changed.
-P
RSS Feed