the memory is an old one
I am 16
maybe 17
deeply asleep in my bedroom
my sanctuary
someone is touching me
caressing my body
kissing my mouth
I cannot open my eyes
I cannot move at all
I fight against the sleep holding me in a vice grip
panicked
trying to rouse myself
as I am being touched without my consent
it is my girlfriend
trying to wake me up from a deep sleep
not wanting to shake me violently
she has already tried calling my name
shaking my shoulder
in a moment of Sleeping Beauty romanticism
she has decided to wake me with a kiss
not realizing how it would panic me
trigger me
because I rarely speak of such things
as I reclined yesterday full of therapeutic needles
this old memory returns in all its technicolor glory
the sensations on my skin
my mouth
my helplessness
my panic
at being unable to shake off sleep
unable to set boundaries
unable to stop this invasion of my body
I remind myself over and over again
that I am safe now
I am safe
as I calm my breathing
and fight or flight recedes
new knowledge with remarkable clarity
and the crystal clear ring of truth
rises up from the pensieve of memory
I suddenly understand why I was so upset
with my girlfriend that long ago day
a truth my psyche had been blocking unfolds
this was not the first time that this had happened to me
this was not the first invasion staged while I slept
© 2017 Christine Elizabeth Ray – All Rights Reserved
Gasp! Powerful writing, Christine. I was not expecting those last two lines. Good on you for confronting the past. I’d say your inner bad-ass is alive & well!
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Thank you very much. It certainly helps to write it out.
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Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
Christine Ray – A memory of a memory within a memory, both long buried and rising from the deapths
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So sad that this experience happened to you and now follows like a nightmare specter in the night!
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Being a survivor doesn’t mean that I live, eat, and breathe my past. It does; however, mean that the past can come back to haunt me at unexpected times in unexpected ways.
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Powerful
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Thank you so much. . .
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