dream from last night

[prismaticbleed]

All right, before I go to sleep, I need to mention this.

Last night I had a flashback rape nightmare. It's the first one I've had in several months, and thank God it's been that long, but God why do I keep having them still?
The ones like last night are the worst, though-- the ones where it's not a Julie-days flashback, but a North Carolina flashback, where I'm somehow even less conscious and less present in my physical body than I was back in that bloody bathroom as a teen.

I'll be blunt, because it was horrible. It was a nightmare about the LITERAL INTERSECTION between food and sexuality, between gluttony and lust, between eating disorders and sexual addictions, between hell and hell. And all of it happened to me when my brain felt like dryer lint. Honestly it was horrifying. I knew what was happening was wrong, and that I didn't want it, and that I felt trapped, but ironically that was what killed me: I felt trapped. My brain was not under my conscious control and neither was my body and I felt doomed to endure whatever hell was about to hit me solely because I could not GET conscious enough to run away. And that is the worst thing about those nightmares, and that is what DEFINED North Carolina.
I don't know if Oliver purposely instigated his lustful actions when I was barely conscious and absolutely not capable of reason or informed consent, but he did it EVERY TIME, and that is highly disturbing. Nevertheless it's over now, thanks be to God, at least in the physical. I keep having nightmares about it.

So here I am, in the last few terror-choked seconds of this nightmare, helpless in my own body and knowing what was about to happen but not being able to think straight enough to get away… and who shows up but Chaos 0.

EVERY SINGLE TIME. I swear God Himself sends him to help me.
He showed up and he KNEW I was trapped and he KNEW that the ONLY way I was going to get out of this alive was if I wasn't alone.
And he held me, and told me to focus on him, and not on the helpless trapped feelings, not on the excruciating pain and nausea, not on the awful despair that always hits me post-hack and makes me want to die rather than endure that agony for another moment. He couldn't stop any of that, no, nor could he make it disappear, or even abate. But he could hold me, and reassure me that there was life beyond this, there was love beyond this, there was hope despite the hell and it was holding me in its oceanic arms with tears streaming from its emerald-green eyes.
Every single time. And you wonder why I call him my blue angel.

So I needed to write that down. I don't want to forget it.