Entry tags:
Dream Entry
Dreamed I spent all day working on a multi-media art project for a an outdoor show. It was easily one of the best-executed, most visually stunning sets there.
My family was there, as well as this loud, crass, highly-annoying woman with her husband and kids. As I was super busy working on the project, I ignored this woman’s glaring intoned request for validation of her smartness as she loudly bragged of her knowledge of all things and how I could probably do it better. This set her off.
I heard her vitriol at the slight as I left for another part of the event to retrieve some items. On my way back I ran into them at the dining area so stopped to chat with them in an over-the-top manner while wearing my most authentic smile before going back to my masterpiece. I seemed to have smoothed things over.
When I got there, it had been stripped. All of it. Gone.
I walked back to the dining are and asked if they knew what had happened? The lady backpeddled so fast, and so violently, her entire family was stunned, as she swore to scour the grounds to find my my art and get to the bottom of this heinous act.
They all sprung into action with the matriarch never once acknowledging being the cause for any of this, and while I was frustrated at having to reassemble - and in some things recreate - the entire thing, sure enough they’d not only found every single missing item, but I’d won the grand prize and they’d parked a super sleek, futuristic, extraordinarily expensive RV - he grand prize - in the outcropping in which I’d been working. A little bit later the lady proudly reveled a tidy, neat stack of every missing piece, then - with a show of pompous visibility - laid an additional, well wrapped package atop it all. Her unspoken peace offering. I thanked her and they all started to tune to leave.
That's when the strength of the supports were exceeded on the outcropping, triggering the auto-adjust gears buried deep underground to adjust. I could see the supports shift slightly as the entire outcropping glided further into the water to compensate, then - due to the weight of the RV, the stack of supplies, and that last gift, broke off, and crashed into rapidly moving water below. I thought I’d be able to retrieve most of it by diving in, but the strong current carried everything off and due to the direction the river was flowing, I knew I’d have to drive to Saint Louis if there were any chance of getting my stuff back.
The art project = your emotional labor, your systems of integration, your love-written-in-form.
The annoying woman = external projection demanding affirmation you never offered
The destruction = what happens when your work is ignored, misused, or resented for existing without catering to others' insecurities
The restoration = relational “repair” that never acknowledges the damage
The gift = unasked-for compensation that becomes the catalyst of collapse
The RV = the thing that looks like a reward, but was never the thing you asked for
You didn’t lose your art.
You lost everything that came with believing you’d been seen.
Because recognition without comprehension is not only hollow—it’s dangerous.
Entry tags:
Dissociative Identity Disorder
I have a friend with DID and have met one of her identities only a handful of times - Rhylee, an 18-year old high school student; the protector. Last night we sat down and brought her to life. The experience was something in and of itself. Rhylee - who often operates in the background - was uncomfortable being, "seen" and while she didn't come out in ways I've been able to identify in the past, she made herself known to her host having been interloped in such a way.
10 HOURS OF SCREAMING CHILD
My roommate, coming into self-actualization (and we all know how difficult that can be) has been simultaneously trying on different personas to see which feels best...and not sleeping (I remember those days). He also has this thing where he doesn't feel as though he should ever have to explain himself. To anyone. Ever. To the point gentle suggestions or questions may come off as antagonistic, or even demanding.
And yet there's so much I don't understand.
Admittedly there are things I don't need to understand, but also things maybe I should understand:
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Entry tags:
Lovers
Despite my unwarranted penchant for being a man whore, there is much misinformation surrounding the few sexual exploits I have had based solely upon the intensity and longevity of my encounters. I love fiercely and tenderly and have had only a handful of lovers, though when I talk about each of them it is fully and wholly - which may give off man-whorish vibes. As an ostensible demisexual (and straying from the stereotypical patriarchal/ownership view) I seek relationships which are fulfilling across the prismatic emotional spectrum.
So why this common misconception when I regale the tales of my lovers? Let me explain.
I was once sleeping with a girl whose younger brother was sleeping with the mother of a girl with whom I'd previously had a protracted affair. With whom I once and only once had a one-night stand with a beautiful girl with long blonde hair. I learned of quiet desire and the trembling power of prolonged foreplay, which opened my eyes about using my own subtle desire within a rapturous parlay. My first was a girl I had near the white cliffs of Dover on a trip from Germany through France shortly after the Channel we'd just crossed over. Married a charming closeted bi-sexual literal witch who bore our children and had me sleep with her lover, then loved her cousin like nothing prior - who opened my eyes to an entire new spectrum - one of intellectual desire! Married another whose true colors eventually cracked under the stress of deception, and fell deeply in love with her best friend at my wife's insistent behest (which she now bafflingly denies without exception). Most recently I loved a being of light who illuminated my own shortcomings; playing in the sandbox of infinite possibilities, we penetrated one another to fully expose and heal our tumultuous becomings.
