"Rape In My Dreams"

Last night I had a nightmare that I was nearly raped. I woke up, terrified, the fear pounding in my bones. A reoccurring nightmare, I once dreamed dreams like this several nights a month until I sought a counselor's perspective. Through guided discussion, we talked about the possibilities of what rape meant and why, in every dream, I am running from White men, sometimes white face masks.

After careful and guided confrontation of my fears, the nightmares began to slowly fade. Still, once in a few months, a new nightmare will surge with new faces, a new path for me to run and fresh symbolism for me to consider.

This poem was inspired/resulting from one of my nightmares, this one dreamed last night. I dedicate this poem to the womyn who survive rape both in their sleep and when awake.


"Rape In My Dreams"
In my dreams,
I am winded from being chased.
I witness a brother gunned down,
and I fall to the earth.

The guns surround me
Their faces taunting me
Mocking my fear
They throw paper in my face
With threats dancing in black ink
The letters move alive,
encircle my throat.
Fear ellipses my courage
My prayers cannot find a way
Out

The men stand over me
I look up
Their monstrous features
enjoy my understanding
that they could
- if they merely desire to -
hold my wrists to the earth
and overpower me
rape me
kill me

In my dream, there was no river.
Only earth
- the soil I fell upon -
and the certainty I carried
that it would cover my body
once they were done with me

In my dream, they made me run from them
to further their game
of wolf and cat,
I couldn’t outrun them.

I dash into a worn old house
filled with people
and scream.
I scream about my body
and the strangling ink.
No
one
believes
me.

They offer me a wooden stool
and tell me to sit on it,
“Pretend it’s not happening.
If you show that you are scared,
then they will find you,”
Do not show who you really are.

One monster enters
his hands were all over me as
the others vanished.
Descending into darkness,
I wondered why I was born at all
Why had I fought so hard for other things
and no one, in the end, would fight for me
Why had I spent my life protecting laws
that had no chance of protecting me-

In my dreams, my skin was Darker
Softer, Smooth
and the flesh of the men were gleaming white,
their pasty skin damp and unwashed

I fight -
break loose -
run outside -
I see my mother and father
with shovels, digging into the earth.
/I am in a landfill of garbage/
“This is our home,” their eyes tell me.
Their backs are near broken from
Trying to dig home.

The taste of blood leaks
in the back of my throat.
I scream into the earth.

I turn.
They have found me.

In my dream there was no river,
only earth.