Tuesday, October 6, 2015

The little girl's "gift." (dream)

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I'm about five years old. I have a gift that I don't talk about with many others, because I have a simple, carefree life that I appreciate deeply. I sense that my "gift" is a threat to that simplicity I enjoy. I sense that my gift is dangerous, dark and strange.

Because of this, I feel older than I know I should at my age. I have seen a great deal of violence- more than most will ever experience in their lifetimes. Because of the violence that has been so close to me for so long, and because I've experienced it alone, I know the value of a quiet life. I already know the extent of human pain... it's such a simple thing really... horribly, terribly simple... and I know that this long, deep awareness of pain alienates me from most.

This strange ability I have is that I can see different events that happened during different points in time at certain locations if there was once a very, very strong emotion there. Almost always, the level of emotion necessary to see a vision must be induced by some sort of violence. I've seen dogs beaten by their masters, and goldfish injured before being flushed down toilets, but most frequently, I've seen murders of other human beings in the distant past.

The murders that are reenacted for me in one place or another are usually in isolated places, or in places like bathrooms- which makes sense. They are places in which I am generally alone, and this aloneness amplifies the fear I share with the past victims of these crimes.

I am with my mother at the house of one of her loose acquaintances. It's summer and I'm wearing one of my favorite "sets" of clothing. The striped mint tee was purchased with matching mint green shorts. My clear jellies sparkle in the summer sun. I run up the stairs to use the bathroom.

There was only one time that I bothered to share my insights to the police. That's the only time a murder was recent enough to catch the criminal. A man had beaten his wife's head on the white pedestal sink. I saw something in real life that matched up with the superimposed vision and told my mother. Somehow, she got the police involved and told me I was something of a local hero, but I don't know about such things. I'm five. I only care about what my mother has to say about me.

I'm about to have another vision.

The shower... something gruesome happened in the shower. And for the first time, it was violence toward a child. A kid about my age! Then I step into the shower and look closer. I see the little boy's blood, swirled in circles around several layers plastic curtains. It happened recently. Very recently. The vision is extremely fresh. It isn't distant at all. In fact, I have a hard time telling it apart from reality for a moment.

Then I hear someone calling me from the door. I must have forgotten to shut it. The lady who owns the house is at the door. I strongly suspect that she did it. As time unfurls a little more, and the vision unfurls a little more, I see that it was she who did it. The boy was her step son. He had straight blonde hair and loved cobalt blue. She wrapped him in the plastic shower curtain and went in for his ribs with a long pick because she didn't want to keep taking care of him. She was too exhausted to keep going.

I step out of the shower. She's been watching me, but she doesn't suspect me... How could she? She moves out of the doorframe and I shut the door and do my business. I go down the stairs.

Oh, but she doesn't just suspect me... she has gifts of her own! She knows I know what she did!

I start thinking about what that newspaper clipping must have said! She looks at me with a cold focus that makes me feel a deep kind of pity and disgust for her... she's a young woman, but not wealthy enough to have avoided doing hard manual labor like cleaning up after a child... or a murder.

It's as though my mother isn't there. She is physically present, but she does not acknowledge the sudden change in this woman's demeanor. This woman is clearly plotting to get rid of me before we can leave.

Somehow, I sense, and she does too, that grown-ups don't truly believe in these gifts. She knows she can get away with this. If grown-ups can benefit from our divinations, they will. But they won't take them seriously when you need them to.

I know there's nothing I can say or do that will divert this woman from trying to stop me. She's tired. She's overworked. She's deeply, deeply unhappy. But there's enough spark left in her to try to continue living the rest of her life in relative peace. She's already killed one kid in order to secure that quiet, and she's not going to have a problem killing me as well.

My mother resumes unloading the car's beach umbrellas, watermelons, etc. into this lady's house. I don't know what to do!

The lady goes into the kitchen. That can't be good. I run out the door, but I just get to a balcony and a driveway. The lady circles around the house with her pick. I can't just leave my mother and I am not going to be able to fight someone three or four times my size.

I begin to devise a plan to get a firetruck to come to her house... but I'll have to either get my mom to give me her cell phone, or run to the kitchen and stay there for a couple minutes without getting dragged away or brazenly stabbed with my mother in the driveway or living room!

All the while, I'm shocked and disappointed at this woman. It's such a stupid thing for her to have gotten into so much trouble for. While I understand how miserable she is, there was no reason for her to kill the little boy in the first place. She could have gotten a divorce! She could have told someone about it! She could have quit her job and taken a rest!

Worse, she had no way of knowing whether or not I was going to attempt to call the police and get her arrested! There's not enough evidence. The police won't believe me! Can't she see that? Can't she see that people don't listen to kids who see things that aren't physically there? I had proof before! There was still blood on the sink! She was very effective at cleaning up after her murder. It isn't the same situation at all!

I keep moving towards my mother...


I had a lab report and tons and tons of homework that I was worried about all weekend when I had this dream. It's due tomorrow and I still haven't heard back from my partners. We all have our own "duties," and I'm always worried that the half dozen or more group partners I have in all my classes are dissatisfied with my contributions. My contributions do not seem adequate compared to theirs. They seem more accomplished and knowledgeable than I do with these things.

I get to do the theorizing and connecting the data together (seeing the visions), while they deal more with recording the data, doing the experiment and crunching the numbers (the mother unloading the car). So I feel as though I get to have the fun while they do the work.

This lab is especially worrisome since we didn't finish crunching the numbers by the end of the class. I didn't think it was bothering me to the point that I felt that I knew we were going to get "shanked" in terms of grading for a long time (probably all week), and that I didn't do enough to stop it. I have taken so many classes and I am always worried about that surprise F. The teacher is young, tired, ambitious, and a very, very hard grader, and my partners (my mother and the little boy who was killed...), do not seem as alarmed as I am about this week's report.

In the dream, the two lab partners are combined two times. This is a phrase and concept I have written down several times in the past several lab reports. This is due to the fact that we've been using two resistors in two different circuits for the past three weeks.

The two partners appear once in the person of my mother (helping to take care of me... "carrying the load...." getting us from one point to another in an active, linear fashion- from the beginning of the class to the end of the class). But the two lab partners are also the little boy who was stabbed in the little girl's vision. Both partners leave me with the impression that they are very young. They are both blonde and dress in primary colors- especially cobalt blue. I am apparently worried that due to their relative inexperience with interpersonal power structures, they are going to get "killed" when it comes to grading.

This dream is actually about something ridiculous, given how it's also about child murder! Geez! I guess it's time to take life less seriously.