aftermath

we dream, we create, we change, we love

recursively abusively played

leave a comment »

a large brutish man was repeatedly abusing a small young woman verbally, physically and sexually. i couldn’t understand what would be inside a man that he could treat a woman that way

members of her family were merely standing or sitting nearby, trying not to watch, trying to pretend it wasn’t happening, but not stepping in to stop it, not even protesting. i couldn’t understand what could be inside them to allow anyone, much less one of their own, to be treated that way

when i moved forward to intervene, i was cautioned that th reason everyone was allowing th abuse was that th brute had threatened to kill his victim if we interfered, then would turn on each of us. that didn’t explain any of it to me, i still couldn’t understand how it could be happening or how they could allow it to happen

when i made up my mind to intervene despite th threat, i was informed not to worry, no physical harm or actual sexual abuse was being committed, and that both th apparent perpetrator and apparent victim knew th verbal abuse to be pretended, and so too th apparent family, because i was only on a stage in a performance of a drama about th events i was seeing, that it was not really happening. knowing that good drama and good acting necessitates getting into th scene and th role as if real, i still couldn’t understand how any of th players could act th way they were acting

although i didn’t know th actress who was playing th victim, i was then told that in this drama, i was on stage acting th role of th vicim’s father, that to play it well i needed to actually feel inside what i would be feeling if my own daughter were actually in this situation. that i couldn’t understand even more than anything else, so i refused to do it and i left th stage

i saw them moving on to th second act of their drama. it turned out that th first act had been acted out by an amateur drama group, and th second act consisted of a professional drama group giving a detailed critique of their performance, with very vivid advice on how each actor and actress – including th perpetrator and th victim, and i as th victim’s father (although i remained offstage in protest) – could better get into our roles. i couldn’t understand how even a professional actor could get into th mind of an amateur actor getting into th mind of an abuser far enough to do what had been portrayed to me

i realized that all of this had been only a story someone had written about a drama that had a second act explaining how to improve on a first act that was supposed to be portraying something i couldn’t understand. i shook my head at it, still unable to understand

i often become aware i’m in a dream when i’m in dreams that disturb me as this one was doing, so i reminded myself that this was all only a dream, and i promised myself that i could have th final word by refusing to remember th dream when i woke up. but i couldn’t even understand why i would even dream about such abuse, even as a drama or a drama about a drama or a story about a drama about a drama or any way it were to decide to come to me, and i somehow knew even while still asleep that i would only be able to put it to any rest by at least recounting it to SuziQ upon waking

but still as if to at least register some protest of some sort against th whole matter, in th dream itself i proclaimed that none of it would ever get written down in my dream records. or that if it were written down, i would only do so privately, never out in th open, since i would never be able to understand how i could ever even write out or speak out to friends or strangers what might have come into my mind and my dreams to have given me th scene i had been in

[yet even as i was waking, some voice or force seemed to drive me toward recounting my dream to SuziQ, then recording and posting it here, almost as though doing so might help me bring some peace to something haunting me. yet even as i have been doing so, further recursive iterations stretch out again and again and again further than i can imagine – first, someone reading this, me not understanding why they would do so far enough to ever understand what was really so traumatic in that very first moment of it; then someone discussing what they had read or writing about it, me not understanding why they might ever do so; and so on and so on. they say when skin suffers any serious burn, that the cells continue to be destroyed long after, on and on and on, unless treated properly. abuse is like that: once even imagined, its death never stops dying]

 

Bumper Sticker [www.internetbumperstickers.com/] - oneirra

 

Advertisements

Pages: 1 2

Written by macheide

23 April 2015 at 6:58 am

Posted in oneirra

Tagged with ,

Comment?

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s