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A Chaotic Dream


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One night I went to sleep and dreamed…

Waking up this morning to my parents arguing and me being partially blamed for it because I have an appointment at 12:15 and Mother couldn’t get ready in time so they could leave promptly. Listening to the rumbles of a family argument erupting into a battle to be reckoned with, is no one's ideal way of fun. Instead, it’s rather a trouble and gruesome scene that brings out my PTSD of my childhood day’s that would cause an adult to have nightmares.

The sounds of their voices escalating into a full-fledged scream make my hair stand up on the back of my neck. I recognized that sound, I get up from my oversize plush beige chair-ottoman combo, quietly head for the bedroom door to close off what sounds of the argument I could. I didn’t want to become involved in another one of their arguments and I certainly didn’t want to listen to it. However, shutting the door didn’t stop all of the noise from penetrating through the thin walls, into the bedroom with their voices echoing throughout the house. I was ready to be a mole that burrows into the ground and hides from the predators so it doesn’t get eaten but, there was no avoiding the argument.

As I listened, the memories of my childhood flourished throughout my mind, listening to endless fights and arguments, then waiting for the inevitable outcry and anger to be taken out on someone was to be expected. I had already had an all night up and down sessions from not taking my heartburn medication the morning before, feeling the hot acidy of the stomach acid crawl, burning it’s way up my esophagus was no one’s way of having fun, it would reach the top of my throat burning the back of my tonsils. The feeling of wanting to vomit my dinner was a constant barrage of pains, burns, and reminders of what happens when I forget to take my medication.

For the rest of the day, they would go without speaking unless necessarily appropriate. I, however, would eventually have to endure the backlash of their argument by being a moving target for which anger towards each other would be taken out onto me, just for being there. I was half tempted to cancel my afternoon appointment with my urologist, just to avoid the conflict of which was to come. I knew I needed to go, the enduring non-stop bladder pains needed to be looked at pronto.

It wasn’t long until Mother came in the bedroom, inviting me out to grab a coffee and breakfast, which is rather unusual for her to ask in a humble but pleasant manner after getting into a debacle with her husband. I agreed to go then we departed only to find out that after my appointment today I would have to travel around town with her to variant places for her liking, regardless of how I felt, I was going to have to go, there was no winning this argument after all, she just got into a huge argument with her husband, so, who was I to stand in her way of going anywhere. She has every right to do as she pleases. I just wanted to be left out of it, for her to simply drop me off at home, but no, that seemed rather repulsing, revolting, and impossible to her without having to explain herself to hubby for going to different stores by herself. Besides, who was going to open the front doors for her or do this or that but me, the one person that has a debilitating disease that likes to show its ugly face whenever it so chooses. I just had to know when it does decide to show up, unfortunately, it was on occasions that I felt like absolute garbage, trash, or the mere thought of getting out of bed seemed impossible.

Who am I to bitch and complain? I’m an almost thirty-year-old, married, “ungrateful” sick woman that lives at home with her mother. Most seem to believe it is simply for the benefit of having to pay low rent, living a common life of going to work everyday go home, have dinner, sex, then head to bed. It didn’t occur to anyone that my life would be complex than that. I go blind on and off throughout the day, my head feels like it has bouncy balls bouncing around throwing my balance off, ringing in the ears causing irritation, depression from severe pain, and anxiety from the constant derogative conceited disrespectful remarks I hear throughout the day, I mean, what could be wrong with that? I am able to work, right? Wrong. I’d like to see someone be able to work who can normally see on a regular basis, suddenly, without notice, lose their sight, be in constant debilitating pain, walk in a drunken type manner without being actually intoxicated, all from balance problems.


Something else happened today that I haven’t done in a few months now, I smoked a black and mild cigar. Oh my heavens, the smell of the sweet cigar, as I inhaled sweet glory, my lungs feeling satisfactory, my brain screaming, and my muscles throughout my body start to relax. My body becomes enveloped in a high-like state that sends my mind, body, and spirit into a peaceful serenity of great harmony.  

After being brought back to reality, I was home, listening to her simply to me about a delicious dish that was enough for two full grown adults, grandmas baked beans, "I want there to be leftovers. I know once your husband gets a taste of these there won't be any leftovers so I'm going to tell him not to eat them all." I first looked at her in sheer disgust as normally my husband doesn't eat everything in the house when there is plenty of fucking food in the house. Furthermore, the food that we have been eating lately hasn't even been made for everyone in the house, or we simply, picked up our own food, hot and ready, out of a fast food joint or pizza parlor. I was simply appalled by her stating that when all that was being made was cauliflower, sweet potatoes, and grandmas baked beans. Simply, there isn't enough food for four grown adults to sit humbly at a dinner table and have enough food to fill their bellies completely. 

The Rumble


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Once Upon I slept...

I was awoken on a dark dreary morning by a force to be reckoned with. Hearing the shuffling and chaotic manner to which he searched, I knew he was missing something. His manic behavior to which he was searching, the tremble in his breath as he spoke aloud in anger, becoming more irritated by the minute. I awoke to the noise in the room, I ask what was wrong, “I can’t find my wallet” he answers agitated and frustrated. “OK, we’ll find it. Did you leave it in the car?” “I’ll go look”, he leaves the room letting out a deep sigh as he exited.

As I start to look around the dresser, in between the seat cushions in the chair that he sat in the night before, I hear him start yelling outside, “Fuck! Shit! Son of a bitch!...Where the fuck is it?!”. Amongst continuing to look for his wallet I knew his voice had woken my parents, I prayed that they didn’t come in the bedroom, a vocal brawl was about to erupt, and I didn’t want them to become part of it.

The door to the bedroom opens, “Have you found it?!” He demands. “If you don’t calm the fuck down, we’re going to have a bigger problem than you not finding your fucking wallet”, a large sigh exhales his body “I’m sorry, I’m just getting pissed. I can’t stand it when I can’t find something. I’m not mad at you, I’m just…” I had remembered I heard him knock something over with his hand last night off the nightstand. 

I cling to the furniture as I slowly make my way over to his side of the bed. I kneel on the floor, hearing, feeling, the bones in my knees and back, crack and crinkle. I start to feel around between the bed and the nightstand, my small fragile hand feels his wallet as I grasp it, “I found it” as I pull it out and hand it to him. “Now help me up”, I reach out to him, his large masculine hands clenched my small fragile hands, he puts his head under my arm helping me to my feet. “Thank you, my body isn’t what it used to be. You do need to work on staying calm in a time of conflict” I stated to him.

He apologizes for his attitude towards me and I decline to acknowledge his extenuating circumstances, I was becoming grumpy, angry for him waking me over not finding such a simple item. Emotions start to flair as I embrace his arms, feeling his hands wrap around my body, feeling his strength, as he asks me to forgive his anger, kissing my neck, “Please forgive me, I’m not mad at you. I’m pissed at myself for waking you, not finding my wallet. Please forgive me.” I let out a deep sigh, “I forgive you” “Are you mad at me now?”, another sigh escapes me, “No, I’m just tired and grumpy” I kiss his warm lips, “go to work, I don’t want you to be late or have to rush to work. I love you, be safe”. I depart his arms, heading for the bathroom, to relieve a screaming, painful bladder. As I sit on the toilet, the sounds of sniffles come from his voice as he exits the room, to his car, and leaving the driveway.


I knew I could have handled things better with him but I was awoken to frantic, loud, and rude behavior. If he was calm, passive-assertive, and had awoken me gently and asked me to help him I would have possibly reacted better, instead of giving him no satisfaction that I wasn’t mad, happy, or sad. I was just frustrated, grumpy, agitated, pissed off, and extremely tired. I was pissed off at the world for him waking me but he does every morning. He wakes me to give me his departing kiss every morning, it was nice, beautiful, romantic, knowing that he cares this much about me. I was being an inconsiderate pain in the ass because I had to get up, help him find his wallet, and then be content with him being so loud waking everyone in the house. 

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