The Room June 26, 2002
I was so scared when I woke up the morning I had this dream. My heart was beating so hard and fast that I thought it would burst through my chest. Ever since having the stabbing dream I have suffered deep pain in my heart where the wound occurred. Once triggered it can last sometimes for hours.*
When I went to bed this night I was experiencing heart pain once again, leaving me exhausted, especially as it went on for about an hour and a half. Once the pain eased enough for me to get comfortable, I immediately fell into a deep sleep and began to dream.
I dreamt I was in bed in another room quite different from our bedroom. It reminded me of what you might see in the Middle East, or at least somewhere with a warmer climate…there was just a feeling about the place which reminded me of a very hot country.
In this room there were no doors, only veils or curtains and the room was quite big and open, comfortable and enjoyable to be in. In the blink of an eye I was in a much smaller room without furniture, other than the bed, and it was dull and colourless. I felt very isolated and alone. I had been sleeping and when I woke up I was lying on the bed in this lifeless room. The bed was against the wall in the corner of the room opposite the door which was closed. I was curled up in the fetal position, very afraid. I was waiting for them because I could feel them coming.
It was like time suddenly stood still and I could see myself in a parallel world. I could see Patrick in our bed and I was reaching for him, wanting him to help me get out of this horrible place. But he could not see me. I could hear them coming to get me and my heart started racing. I woke up at this moment and it took me a few seconds to realize I was safe in my own bed. As I lay there getting my bearings, memories that had been just a shadow felt so much closer, the feelings of being in that room….as a young girl, they are very fresh in my mind.
When I had this memory I was actually in both worlds, meaning I was completely aware of what was happening in the memory as well as clinging to my surroundings in the present. When I let go of the memory I was very aware how fast and hard my heart was beating as I waited for the door to open.
It was a few years later when once again I dreamt of this room…and the fear associated with its memory. I also felt the weight of total abandonment descending upon me, knowing I think for the first time I was truly alone in the world during this time of my life. There remained no feeling of hope, only the realization my family was truly gone…they would not be coming back for me. They couldn’t.
When I first arrived in Canada I was very afraid of just about everything, because it was all so foreign and I could not understand why I was here. When I had to get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom I would be overcome with fear. I would instead just lay there as still as I could hoping I could hold it. Not only did I wet my bed many times because I was too afraid to enter the dark hallway, but I would wake up and even throw up from being so afraid. In spite of this being a regular occurrence the hall light was never left on for me to safely find my way.
In such a short period of time, those first two-and-a-half years, I had experienced very big changes that altered my perceptions of reality and truth. I was forced into the dark and away from the light, into a life of fear from one of nurturing and love.
I was first brought to my kind surrogate family as a baby, a family I still cannot identify by name, then brought to Canada to live with the Phypers, a dark and lonely life. It was clear to me with my surrogate family I was loved and had no reason to be afraid. I knew only happiness during that short period. Being separated from them brought about dramatic changes that shattered my spirit, fragmenting my very being.
After being separated from my genuine caregivers, I was forced to spend time in The Room. When I was in The Room there was always a constant warm light but not too bright. I did not have to find my way in the dark. The monsters were on the outside of the door. What these people did to me is significantly locked away still.
While living with the Phypers I would often awake in darkness, not remembering where I was, new monsters around me now. It is difficult to explain how so much fear can be wrapped up in the idea of accepting the requirement to face the darkness, not knowing who may be in the hallway when leaving the safety of my bed. This dream was a very accurate representation of all the emotions tying me to that part of my history. It is easy to understand why I chose to block those memories.
What those people did to me remains largely locked away.
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