The Enemy of the Good (eideteker) wrote,
The Enemy of the Good

The Modes of Control

Last night's dreams were all about... consent, I guess.

Dream #1 started with Marty McFly (now at college) on additional adventures, trying to rescue Doc Brown from something or other (along the lines of the Telltale Games adaptation). The adventure itself was kind of long and tedious in the way that dreams can be, but once it was finished, Marty felt all kinds of newly confident and figured he had this whole time travel thing all figured out. So he goes to Jennifer and tells them their life together is going to be great, and he's gotten them both into a program in Paris (there's always some program in Paris?) that she wanted to go to and she's like, how'd you manage that? And he's like, I have my ways. And then they get to Paris and are checking out the place where they're going to study and she kind of idly mentions something something would be nice, and Marty's like, look again! Because now he just hops in the DeLorean and makes changes so that things will line up just the way she wants them to and is basically back in a flash. But she understandably starts getting creeped out by this and by how perfect everything is, and is like, I never asked for this, we never talked about any of this, it's just you going off and doing things unilaterally "for us." And Marty's like, "Jennifer, can't you see I'm doing this for you/just want to make you happy?" And she's like, "Who's Jennifer? My name is Eve." BUM BAH BUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM! Because he fucked with the timeline too much and literally lost the woman he loved. Like, she never existed.

Next dream was in a giant bookstore, like the New England Mobile Book Fair crossed with The Strand. I'm browsing next to my sister (I don't have a sister, so, uh, symbolic, I guess?) and some creep walks by and smacks her on the ass. So I stop what I'm doing and follow him to the front, hassling him the whole way to apologize, but he's just like, "For what?" and laughs. Rrrrrrgh, men/patriarchy/rape culture (have I mentioned I have an "i hate my gender" tag on tumblr?). So when he got on the checkout line, I very calmly and coolly took him down. Then, putting very insistent pressure on his windpipe with my knee, I demanded an apology. And the fucker was still like, "Nah" so I lost my shit and started to gouge out his eyes while I crushed his windpipe. But then I thought better of it, got some control over myself, and decided just to crush the offending hand instead. Let him live with the responsibility for his actions and as a cripple, rather than just outright murdering him (I'm so gentle and kind in my dreams). And I do mean crush, as I essentially went and systematically broke every single bone from the wrist up in multiple places. Even in dreams I'm very cool; even in dreams I'm very controlled. Even in a violent rage, I'm very methodical, very deliberate.

So that's it; just two very vivid dreams, with something of a common element. My dreaming mind can spin a hell of a story, even if I can't seem to get that to translate into writing when I'm awake.

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