A few odd dreams, or memories… and #MeToo

I’ve frequently said I base my writing on dreams, or dreamlike snippets of memory arising from trauma.

Here are a few:

  1. Walking down the street near Luvafair in Vancouver (a now defunct nightclub, Seymour St., near Drake), and being grabbed from behind, needle, darkness.
  2. Waking up in the dark, crawling to a door- I find my clothes outside and grab them, run to the first place I can’t be observed, put them on, go outside- why am I in Coal Harbour? The buses are no longer running. I get a cab home.
  3. A wealthy family steps outside a hotel and I walk past them on the street, intent on my destination: one of them, a dark-haired man, looks at me with wide eyes and someone says “It’s her.”
  4. Why does my favourite skirt, the one I was wearing at Luvafair, have a giant rip in it?
  5. Who is this dark-haired man, at a party thrown by strangers, who says he knows me, then  leers?
  6. Vague memory of someone trying to give me a needle- I grab the syringe, force the liquid out, before it can be injected.
  7. Why did my former roommate Marcia mail me two shirts, later ask for them back, and get angry with me when I washed them?
  8. Vague memory of a voice saying “Get her on the boat.”

Little pieces, bits and pieces, but they’re coalescing into an interesting story. I am thinking this might go into a newer story that’s in my queue to write. Title TBA.

Interestingly enough, I have suffered PTSD- not necessarily from this, but the initial recollection of several of these points have been enough to trigger anxiety attacks.

I also know I’ve been raped- maybe or maybe not in Vancouver, but most definitely elsewhere. #MeToo.