Who the fuck am I?
Dreams are back. Paralysed by them all yesterday but still really sleepy to. Awful terrifying war ones running around hiding from huge machines in the sky picking people off, one of the piloted by Kate volunteered herself and her children for biological determinism royal. Dreams are much more terrifying than what we can remember of war like experiences when we are generally seriously focused, that's probably the point. There aren't war dreams though are they but slaughter of civilians by big powerful high tech states, that's not war its the obliteration of peoples who were not a threat. The sheer terror of no where is safe and of violence that there is no way to defend from or retaliate to. We shut the blinds when we woke up the first time because we couldn't shake our fear of the sky and really tried to stay awake because we knew we would end up back there couldn't stay awake for long though. There were other dreams after the terror one continued though some even with more feel good elements.
Starting to notice positive changes in us due to time without trauma, reading enough fiction to find out what we like, historical with magical elements seems goes down well, Jess Kidd, Natasha Pulley. Another big thing is TV people who we have had to avoid for a while now or feel seriously messed up afterwards can now be watched with vague interest and without uninterpretable triggers. There are moments when we can feel parts of ourself that UK life has excluded us from for a very long time, moments when what we feel is possible, what futures could be become richer and positive. Before we go back to anxiety and annihilation and fears over all the stuff we need to do and buy for the fuzzy faced lad to go to big school in September. All the time without 8 am stress and arguments after an hour sleep has been a fucking gift. Not enjoying the busyness, the volume, the maskless holiday makers out there again.
Memory wise it seems that at least once after chopping up someone who loved us we were locked in the room with the pieces for days. Don't know how it ends. Almost all of us were long gone. Serious awe for those of us that went through that then looked the cretins that did it in the eye and decades later ignored most of the abuse from the other side of fence or on the street from the same cretins for years. We are tough as fuck. Something we can't let go off though is a facetime call from the states to Stratheden and being told by someone we trusted enough that they had information regarding who we are deemed from DNA and how they would be willing to share it with us. We said there wasn't any point in telling us then and there even if they wanted to. Ready for it now. The British and slaver international aren't and never will be. Still good that we are. Seeing the stolen and mutilated hills on MSNBC has us wondering about First Nation US again, the education from the Jewish mother could actually of been an indigenous American and theres the history and present of missing woman and girls.. Maybe we are one of them. We never seem to be thinking or wondering about both parents, it's always one or the other, Jewish mom and a rapist, African American lighter skinned dad who tried to keep us safe and a probably long dead mom we spent no time with. It just doesn't occur to us that one or both could be alive somewhere. It's frustrating thinking that there is maybe people out there who know. Even if we are Scottish, born from Scottish it would be good to have it proved to stop the wondering but we struggle to make that add up because there has always be too much extreme shit going on.
