Amanda's House

This has been really wierd. For the past week or so, I've been having really bad dreams, though I'm not remembering them. While the bad dreams are not unsual (as past recorded dreams demonstrate), what is weird is that I'm remembering them. I always remember my dreams, and I'm always myself in my dream even if I can't be seen. But, in these dreams, the only thing I remember about them is I am other people; children, adults, of any age and either gender. And something bad is always happening to them, well, to me.

 

The one I remember the strongest is that I'm a little boy of about 6 years old, who is being sexual abused by his father. My older brother, who is about 9 or 10, is also severely sexually abused, but he tries to protect me and take the worst of it. My father is a very rich, very successful and prominent man in the upper-class society. We are African American. No matter who I tell, no one believes me. I don't know where our mother is; she left and doesn't care about us. She wants nothing to do with us.

 

Other dreams I remember details of is I'm a tween girl, caucasian I think, who is being beaten by someone. In another dream, I'm a small child again but who has been abandoned by my mother after my father has died. I've tried assessing some of these dreams from a Jungian perspective (my preferred method of psychoanalysis) but haven't really been able to come up with anything that seems to make sense with either past or current situations.

 

Meh, it will reveal itself in time. It always does. I should really pray about it more. Speaking of which, there's a few more dreams from a couple of months ago that I guess I should upload at some point.

 

School is proving to be a bit of a damper this year. Looks like I'm not going to be keeping my Honours List this year. *sigh* But, strangely, I don't care as much as I once would have. I'm at the point that I'm getting sick of school. I want to get out there and start working, but I guess most 4th years are like this. It's nice to not be so anal about my school and to enjoy other aspects besides school. I've been able to volunteer at City Kidz since about September, which I have just loved, and have found a great new church I'm able to grow in.

 

 

Happy Birthday Robin! You would have been 22 today! Even though you've been called home, you still continue to inspire all of us who were blessed enough to have you in our lives. You'd better be waiting for me at the pearly gates to give me the grand tour when it's my turn!

---

 

So, today wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. This morning was rough, but I still went to class. Afterward, I went to the MacDiv chapel, fell on my knees at the alter and cried my heart out. The feeling of emptying your heart at God's alter (literally) was absolutely amazing! I felt so much better after.

Headed home after that, mopped for a bit (felt better but still not great, ya know?) before I got the urge to draw. I've uploaded the finished result, though I might end up attempting it with marker. I plan to do a series of drawings with my cousin, a type of art therapy since I didn't really handle her passing very well over the summer.

I had a big breakdown with some really close friends once I got back to Hamilton (they made the mistake of asking me about her when we were drinking >.< ), and since then, I've been at peace for the most part.

On a whole different note though, my schoolwork is suffering so much this year! I'm trying this new thing called having a social life. Figure, new Uni, 4th year, may as well give it a shot. Man, I am SOOO far behind! I never realized how hard it was balancing the two! I've got two midterms next week I am so not ready for!! My sister will be coming for Thanksgiving, so hopefully I can work on things tomorrow morning before she gets here, and Monday after she leaves :S

I'm attending a New Age seminar in what looks like an old Salvation Army building. I'm a Christian representative at this meeting. I was there because this organization was going to come to give a presentation to a class in support of New Age, and both they and I wanted to be sure the presentation wouldn't be too much for the students at Redeemer. No one would stand near me and some were giving me dirty looks. There was a light around me and the others didn't like that light. When the speakers were done, I went up to talk to them about what to tone down.

 

Everything fades out then fades into the school, when the presenters are setting up in my philosophy of history room. Students were filling the classroom, wanting to see what this was all about. The presenters began speaking, but not even 10 minutes into the presentation people began speaking out, denouncing them, walking out, throwing things at them...everyone was taking an elitist attitude and not wanting to associate with the speakers because they were pagans. I got furious and went to the front of the room. Taking the mic from the speaker, I began rebuking the students. "Where is Christian tolerance? Where is the love of Christ in your actions? Jesus Himself ate with the worst of sinners, and loved them, so why won't you? Tolerance is about listening to people and accepting them while still believing their opinions and views are wrong! Who are you Pharisees to judge?"

 

Everyone got mad and left, but as the last people were leaving, a man popped his head through the door and told me to hurry or else I'd be late. Bewildered, I asked him what I'd be late for, but he wouldn't answer, and instead told me to hurry up and get everything ready, then meet him in the back parking lot.

 

Still confused, I wandered to the downstairs bathroom outside the cafe and went pee. When I went to wash my hands, a plastic disposable toothbrush was there. Shrugging, I put it in my pocket, assuming I'd need it since I didn't have time to pack anything else. Leaving the bathroom, I went into the cafe to see if there was anything else I could grab that I might be able to use, and also to say goodbye to people. It was communal, so everyone was there but no one would talk to me because I associated with teh pagans. Frustrated and out of time, I ran to the back door and found a military jeep waiting for me. I jumped in while a few others were still loading luggage and I thought, 'What idiots! They don't be able to use that stuff where we're going and what we'll be doing.'

 

The scene fades out then fades into an area at Borden. We're all in combats, all 5 or 6 of us, and undergoing navy seal training to see who would be chosen for a Special Opps unit. I still had my toothbrush, and in my buttpack on my webbing all that was in it was my Bible and devo book, wrapped in plastic so it wouldn't get wet. We had all been conscripted because of the war, but I was the only one of 2 (the other person was the guy who originally came to get me) who had any previous military experience. Some of the others were whining because they wanted frivolous luxuries to take with them, like pj's, but the sergeant major was yelling that they were now navy seals now. I thought, 'If this is navy seal training, my cadet training was cruel and unusual punishment!'

 

We were allowed to take whatever we wanted with us so long as we could carry it. I had my webbing with a canteen and buttpack only, while everyone else had full webbing plus a full rucksack, along with all of their pockets full. We went over a hill and through a light thicket before emerging on the banks of a glacier river. It was absolutely freezing water, and we were told we would have to swim and make it across to the other side, alive. The river looked like an ocean in width; you couldn't see the other side and the water was horribly rough, like it was in the midst of a storm or gall. The waves were huge and crashed with terrifying power. Everyone was whining again, some complaining how cold it was, others that their stuff would get wet. Fed up, the SM angrily pushed one of the whiners in. We were supposed to ear PFDs to help us get across, but the guy who was pushed in didn't have one on. Myself and the other guy with military training immediately ran and jumped in without PFDs and swam out to the guy to help him.  

 

Eventually, we make it to the other side, which is a pier and dock, with a broken down boat on one side and a garbage pile protruding from the water on the other side of the dock. We could only stay on the garbage heap, while the SM and 2IC rested on the seats of the boat. He told us to make ourselves comfortable, we would spend the night here then return to the other side in the morning. While people were either complaining or changing into wet pjs, I transferred my Bible and devo book from my buttpack to my pocket, not want the webbing to weigh me down.

 

3 easels were in the dump pile, so myself and 2 others stood them up and began to paint. The SM walked by and commented on mine that it was a shame, because Prof. P would have really liked that piece. I began to feel sad because Prof. P was dead, and I took the painting and looked into the river, wishing I could bring it with me. 'That's silly, I can't take it in the water, it'll get wrecked.' I let go of the picture, but the wind took it before it hit the water, and carried it away. Looking up, I saw a helicopter overhead that was coming to land on the edge of the pier. The others were happy, thinking the copter had come to take them back across so they wouldn't have to swim, but I was suspicious and uneasy; something wasn't right and I said so to the other military-trained guy. He asked me what I meant but seemed to agree with me and know what I was talking about. A man jumped out of the pilot's sear and began briskly walking away, so I called out to him to wait. The man, who liked very mob-like, paused, as though surprised I noticed him, then said something in a foreign language that had an Australian-like accent. Someone remarked thta it was cool tha the pilot was Australian. "He's not Australian," I replied and began walking backwards, away from the man who was now walking towards us. "Australians are friendlier."  Glancing into the copter cockpit, I noticed blood and bits of tissue splattered all over the machine, with a dead body inside.

 

"Run!" I screamed, turning away and running towards the water. Just as I was about to jump in, a giant explosion erupted, sending me flying into the river along with everyone else; the man had thrown a grenade at the garage heap. Surfacing, the turbulent waters seemed to calm slowly as I began to swim towards the other side. I began to quickly feel exhausted and frozen to the bone, when I noticed my Bible and devo book a distance to my right. Thinking they somehow fell out of my pocket when I was thrown by the explosion, I swam over to them, thinking both, how weird it was that they were floating like driftwood rather than sinking, and that I had to get them out of the water before they got wrecked. Putting them under my arm, I headed again towards the shore, not noticing that the coldness seemed to be dulling or how the books seemed to act as floatation devices, helping me stay above water.

 

Finally making it to the shore, I crawled onto the land, where the SM and the other military guy were waiting for me. "Good, you pass. Lets move on to your next set of training" the SM said as the other guy helped me up. My Bible was dry and in a new-like condition as I slipped it into my pant pocket and followed them.  

I wish today were a dream, but it wasn't. My cousin, Robin, died today. Just collapsed at work and died on the way to the hospital. She's the same age as me, and though she had been having some medical issues, we were told it wasn't anything serious and she was stable and just to take it easy for a while to fully recuperate. The kicker in all this is that not 4 hours before my aunt got the call to go to the hospital, Robin's specialist had called saying that she couldn't be schedualed for surgery until late July because she wasn't a "priority case."

 

I don't understand why I'm as upset as I am over this. Robin and I were close enough as very young children, but once school age hit we went completely opposite directions. I saw her, along with most of my other cousins, twice a year at Easter and Christmas. I guess it's more grief my other cousin, Kayla, who is Robin's younger sister, and my aunt and uncle. I remember what it was like almost losing my own sister years back in a car accident. I try to think of how I would react, feel, if Crystal died now and the pain is unbearable. If Kayla is experiencing anything close to that right now, God I hope You are holding her tight. Seeing my uncle completely fall apart, and my usually vibrant, lively and sweet aunt so completely dead is tearing my heart apart. I wonder; is it normal to grieve more for the family then for the actual person who was lost?

 

Man, you can tell it still hasn't really hit yet since I'm still trying to analyze everything. It's just...I mean...a 21 year old doesn't just drop dead for no reason so what the hell happened??? Why didn't the doctor keep her on Friday? That was normal protocal for someone who's hemoglobin was as low as hers. But nope, they sent her home to save hospital beds. Thank you fucking government for medicare cutbacks and bed closures!