trigger warning:  lots of dark thoughts and self-harm talk

I’m not really sure how dreams work for other systems, but they are very strange in ours.

Sometimes there is a dream specifically had by a single alter who sort of “inhabits” the body while sleeping.

But usually our dreams are a slideshow of various things and memories intended for multiple alters.  It can be very triggering, especially when Charlotte’s dreams are broadcasted where the littles can see.

Last night we had an extremely triggering smattering of dreams…

A dirty back alley and sandy colored garage door. It is storming. We hate storms.  He takes his time, knowing the crash of thunder will cover any noise- not from us though- we are mute. Always mute.

The sharp dig of male fingernails scratching into our tailbone as we stare at his jean jacket. That damn jean jacket.  He had the sharpest fingernails of any boy we’ve ever dated in high school.

Daddy’s cool, controlled voice.  He never yells when he’s really really angry.  He only threatens.  We are limited to our bedroom and nothing but a small shelf of books.  He boxes away everything else in our room, including the notebooks. He knows the writing soothes.  Why did we get a “B” in that class? Everyone knows ladies are supposed to only get “A”s.

We write in the margin of those tattered books. We read them over and over. We are a failure.

A slick black revolver being spun, cowboy style. He’s such a show off. We are wearing thigh high stockings, a garter belt, and nothing else. He likes to leave early in the morning way before we have to get up for work. That’s fine with us.

Being woken up with a soft kiss and the smell of asiago bagels from Panera.  We miss her when she works third shift, but she always made up for it.

Hiding in the basement of our huge house, all alone, rocking back and forth, sure that every siren we hear in the distance is meant for us.  The pills sit heavy in our stomach and our arms and chest run red with blood. They can’t find us.


The triggering taste of absinthe that slides down our throat and immediately ruins the night with him.  We talk too much about our pain.  There is an awkward breakfast in the morning.  We run.  He is way too good for the likes of us.

Sitting in the cafeteria of the psych ward.  We are not the craziest one here. We are not the dangerous one. What if he follows us back to our room? The attendants’ eyes slide past as he comes to sit next to us.  He asks why we aren’t eating anything, then proceeds to devour everything off our tray. When the nurse asks, we say we ate it.

The sound of the ice machine at the psych ward. Those perfect little pellets it spits out. They crunch so nicely and soothe our throat and tummy. We ate nothing else.

Dancing at the club, some anonymous male behind us grabbing at our hips and grinding into us. We grind back, making eye contact with her.  She glares.  It was her choice to leave us, but we still savor that jealous look she tosses our way.  Later she calls us a slut. We are a slut. We aren’t good enough.

Riding through the hills of Kentucky on a four-wheeler, wind in our face, laughing and laughing, knowing there is no feeling in the world like this.  And it is the happiest we will ever be…


When I get up this morning, I am nauseous and there is the tickling sensation of pain at the back of my throat and eyes of holding back feelings, tears, anger, fear.  They all are pushing at the window to see out.  To check if it was all a dream.

I get in the shower, making sure it is scalding.  I automatically reach for the razor to shave my legs.
Victoria is out in a flash, savagely pushing the razor into the flesh of our thigh.  I have a moment of wrestling with her, but then we both watch in silent fascination as the red goes down our leg and turns pink in the swirl of the drain.

This is the real world.

We aren’t sure if that’s good or bad.

2 thoughts on “Dreams

  1. sleepingshadowdragon

    Most of the dreams of the system involve being chased, paranoia, and intermittently very realistic versions of what my next day will be like making me wonder if I dreamed doing something or actually did it. Luckily it is only few and far between that I wake up shuddering and shaky from full flashback memory dreams…that used to be a much more common occurrence.


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