Disturbed dream

I can't believe just how cold, unbelievably cold and hard, she was… eyes of fucking atom-material, unbreakable. If they would break, appropriately, it would be nuclear power unleashed. To the point where, as in world politics, they serve as powerful deterrence… not against acts, but against her finding out. It is a rigid unbreakable wall between her conscious mind and the reality that is my life.

You know what I hate? The WHISPER.

The whisper is the most presumptuous form of communication used in our family. It means death. It is only used for the most grave and substantial forms of communication. It communicates shame. As in - I say this quietly because it would be unGodly to say it aloud, or, alternately, because it is about someone else and this secret, if known, would be terrible. Funny, it is necessary to whisper about Christianity sometimes, because the person nearby is the OTHER. That is, perhaps, the best definition. Whispering signifies that that person is the OTHER, a person who can't be let in on our reality.

I HATE THE WHISPER. It is the reason for shame.

What bothers me, I think, unconsciously, is that she's telling me that he is a bad person. Well fuck, he is not a bad person.

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I had a dream. I was in a community center. We were in the water and there was a christian leader/pastor praying - no, exorcising demons out of people. He prayed over me and I was paralyzed in the water. Afterwards, I realized-someone had stolen my laptop while I was underwater. I felt awful, pit-of-the-gut, until I woke up intensely relieved that it was still in my possession. I was very pissed off at that pastor, at religion, at God, even when thinking that a very real God had paralyzed my neck underwater, for fucking with my life.