I had a
dream this morning. I don’t think I have ever shared a dream like this before,
but I felt God wanted me to share it because of other women who were abused. So
they don’t feel alone. So they know someone understands.
First of all,
I used to have terrible nightmares for years about my father and sex. At first,
I had blood on my nightgown in the dreams. This changed into excrement. So many
dreams where I had poop all over myself, trying to hide it, horrified at the smell
and running from people so they wouldn’t see or smell me.
In this
dream, I met a wealthy, older man in Las Vegas. He was large and wore black
expensive clothes. H met me through my paintings. He saw them and liked them
and wanted to meet me. He encouraged me to keep painting and one day have a
showing that he would finance. He was nice, but I could see he wanted to have
sex with me. I became attracted to him, but he was married and so was I so I told
him I had to go home and I told myself I would never see him again.
A few of my
family members were there too and we had stayed at his place for a couple of
days. I wanted to give the man a gift, but when I tried to do that, his nice
vases and figurines got all tangled with the gift. I couldn’t untangle it and
there was a huge mess in his living room because of me. I told him I would
clean his house before we left.
He and my
family were cleaning up when I had to go to the bathroom. I had been sweeping, but
had to stop. I ran to find a bathroom and they were full so excrement was
leaking down my legs. I finally found one and got poop all over the place. A
man was in a room next to mine and shoved something through the wall. It was a
key with a wooden piece on it that said, “Men.” I grabbed it and got poop on it
and threw it on the floor. The man came in and looked at me with disgust and
left. I heard the rich man call out to me, “Where are you? It’s just like your
family to make a mess wherever they go! And why aren’t you helping?”
I felt so
worthless and helpless. I knew he would also be disgusted with me. I walked to
the door and opened it a crack and told him I was having trouble. I didn’t know
I had poop smeared on my face.
He looked at
me, at first with anger, and then his face softened and I saw love, forgiveness
and understanding on it. I was amazed he could love me the way I looked. I woke
up.
I know I had
always confused God with my father. I always had the seemingly impossible task
of believing God loved me. God was my father. My father was a sexual pervert
and physically abusive. At church they told me over and over that God was a
father. Well, I was always afraid of my father and of God.
Lately, the
last few years, I’ve grown closer to God and have begun to finally see his love
for me. I think the dream shows that. It is a good sign, I think. I’ve always
been too embarrassed to admit I am many times covered in poop in my dreams. I
felt like sharing, because I think other women may dream this too.
Right now, I
am close to our dear God, but because of my mental illness, I’m not so close to
my family. They love me very much, I know that, but they don’t understand me
and are afraid of saying something to make me want to kill myself. Also, I talk
about God all the time and I think they get bored with that and with me. I don’t
think they really enjoy being with me, and I don’t blame them. I don’t enjoy
myself either. Lol I get sick of my sickness.
I have no
friends. I rarely leave the house because I’m afraid I might run over someone
or hit another car. The traffic in my city is totally crazy. Even when I do go
out, I can’t wait to come home. I seem to always say the wrong thing to people
or I start sweating up a storm until it is dripping off my nose.
I have come
so far in therapy with dealing with the abuse. I’m sure after reading this, you
with think, “Um, No, you haven’t.” lol
But I have. I used to want to die every day. Now I usually wake up happy
at the thought of spending the day with God. I talk with him and pour out my
heart to him. He is everything to me. I do have small lapses, but I’m glad I’m
not completely mad and in an institution somewhere.
I also think
one reason I’m this crazy is my father burned my hands on a stove when I was
three. I kind of left my body when that happened and have been royally fucked
up ever since. BUT I got married (twice), had two beautiful girls, have a good
husband, and have 7 wonderful grandchildren who love me. So, all in all, I
think God has paid me, “double for my trouble,” as Joyce Meyer says. The fact I
could have a semi-normal life is a very big deal and I thank God for it.
One thing
about my family. Every one of us believes in God. We will all be together in
heaven. I mean, that is a huge, wonderful miracle! I know my two grandmas
prayed for all of us and I’m thankful for their prayers as I’m sure it made a
difference. We are a stubborn, pleasure-loving family, yet God pulled us to
himself by a series of calamities that made us see how stupid and wasteful it
is to love this world and the things in it. We don’t care about the world any
longer. We care about our family and being together in heaven. We learned the
pleasures of this world end up as ashes in our hands. But the ways of God fill
our hands with people to love and a glorious future.
