Thursday, January 13, 2011

Other people dream about things like sex. I do maybe once every few months. More often (but not nearly often enough) I dream that I look into someone's eyes and see love and acceptance there, and arms opening out to me. Or a gentle hand touching my shoulder or arm, that sort of thing. That is my favorite sort of dream.

But mostly, I dream about....yeah, that's right, produce, especially fruit. I'll be in some weird ethnic market seeing stuff I never knew existed, or at a regular store, seeing all sorts of variety that isn't usually found. I pick the produce up, turn it over in my hands, smell it, look for blemishes, talk to other people about it....scrutinize it for color and ripeness. My dreams are very vivid that way...I get *all* the senses. :-)

And then I dreamed people were talking about Bill. Bill, I am so sorry. I'm so sorry people think it is inappropriate to talk about sexual abuse while all sorts of other sexual stuff gets aired next to every checkout lane in the supermarkets. I'm so sorry that people like you and I are expected to keep this sort of thing quiet in order to protect the people who hurt us. And I know what it's like to feel like damaged goods, to turn the rage inwards toward oneself, to feel irreparbly soiled and defiled. But most of all, I am sorry beyond words because I was there, played Boggle with you, talked with you, was right there, and had been so well trained that I never betrayed what a rotten past I had. We could have talked about it. But could we? Skeletons tend to come in chains, not one at a time. And people really hate it when you haul those skeletons out into the daylight. I don't know. I just wish with all my heart that I had known. :-(

1 comment:

mscriver said...

Some of us out in the world have realized that people like Bill exist, that they are telling the truth about their abuse, and that the rest of us must pay attention and DO SOMETHING! I give you sympathy and respect, though I know it's not enough.

Prairie Mary

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