Chapter Nine: Coming Face to Face with a Monster

I dreamt that I was walking through the old neighborhood. I recognized the houses; California bungalow style homes with nicely kept lawns and shady front porches. As I was passing by I noticed that there was a news bulletin flashing on peoples television sets. It must have been a summers day. The front doors to the houses were open allowing me to see through their screen doors and into their living rooms. There was a news anchor on the T.V. warning people that there was a sexual predator on the loose. A picture flashed onto the screen. The face was blurred out, but I knew who it was; intimately. It was an ogre, a stealer of childhood innocence, the demon that had been attacking the inner reaches of my psyche from the time I was assaulted--a monster in the truest sense of the word.

I then found myself riding in the back seat of a car. I was on the drivers side. I couldn't see who was driving. I looked to the left and out the window to see the same old neighborhood passing by. I wasn't alone in that back seat. I looked over to my right and there on the other side of the back seat was me, as a child, about the same age as I was when I was assaulted. Then I saw who was seated between us. It was the monster. I didn't hesitate. With my right elbow I started to strike the monster as hard as I could. There was a rush of bright lights, then I woke up. I felt great! It was incredible! It was truly as if a thousand pound weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I walked three feet off the ground the rest of the day and completely lost the desire to drink myself to death. It was a psychological catharsis.

I confronted my grandmother about some abuse issues I had with her from my childhood. She denied anything untoward took place then proceeded for about an hour talking about how abusive and imperfect her childhood had been. That told me all I needed to know. Although I was calm and straight forward with my approach on the subject the conversation freaked her out. She ended up kicking me out of her house, but that was fine with me. My stay had served its purpose. I had remained quiet for too many years. It was time that I came to the defense of my inner child since no one was there for me when I was young and vulnerable. I also confronted my mother over the assault. She also played the denial game, then told me that she never wanted to speak of the incident again. She became even more icier towards me afterwards. She started to treat me like my brother before he died. Her reaction spoke volumes for her character. I felt sorry for her, figuring that she must have been put through hell as a child to be passing along the pain to the next generation. At least she had my weak kneed father to be her dependent and satiate her desire for a life of distance and denial. It never gave her any happiness. She just became colder and more bitter the older she got.

Next up: Dropping Out While Trying to Make Sense of It All.