Image by Midjourney
DREAM
I am talking to someone who grew up knowing my dad. I want to know if he was horrible towards them at some point and if what they experienced, even at a very small dose, was like what I experienced. I explain that I was trapped with him, because I needed intellectual companionship that wasn't available elsewhere.
Then I want to test out buying a car.
The people selling me a car are going to steal the car I want to trade in, and I know it. I want to rehearse what would happen if I brought a gun with me.
I set up the purchase. I see a video about a lady getting charged with hysteria, even though she was right about having her car stolen. The lady taking my trade-in is an internet-famous astrologer, and wants to bring her 12 year old daughter. I take this as a sign of unprofessionalism. Perhaps even... criminality.
I brought a gun, and point it at them, stopping traffic. The FBI and the cops arrive. They disarm me with a gentle discussion. I explain that they were in the middle of stealing from me.
As I look around at all the trouble, I think to myself, This is supposed to be a thought experiment. It's not supposed to actually happen.
INTERPRETATION
I don't get to talk about my dad often. The opportunity doesn't arise that often, and when it does, I can only recall a jumble of memories which were formed decades ago. All of the memories, even the positive ones, occurred alongside a fear and anger and an intense pain. So the memories tend to come through to me as very unclear. That's the main reason why I decided that I would make Lost Atlantis such a focal point of my life. I needed to get something down on paper about what he put me through that I didn't have words for before.
I didn't unload everything there is to unload when I wrote Lost Atlantis, but I unloaded a lot. I feel much lighter in that area of my brain after having completed that journey. Now as an artist, I feel as though I can move on from fixating on that to other topics. Pivoting more into comedy as a writer just feels right. I feel a lot more free.
But many, many, many times, I have thought about what it would be like to ask other family members if he was horrible to them like he was to me.
I wrote the first Lost Atlantis book--the most shocking one, just a couple years before my own life arguably had some real shocking moments of its own. And sometimes, I'd think to myself that all the shameful, challenging things that my character went through were only supposed to be a thought experiment about what it would be like to suffer very badly in the aftermath of an abusive childhood. I wasn't supposed to live such a tumultuous, harsh emotional life as an adult myself. But I suffered. Very deeply at times.
I haven't suffered nearly as much for these past several years. And the suffering I have felt generally hasn't been felt as sharply. Sometimes, looking back on my life feels like looking at a stranger.
