Somehow in my dream I knew it was October. I was with Denise in a mall. We stopped by a costume shop to finish our costumes. For some reason we were both dressed in clown jumpsuits. She was looking for a wig. I mentioned her birthday coming up and asked what she was going to do.
Eventually my sister shows up with some tall guy. She is all dressed up… fashion and all. I remember a jean mini-skirt and killer legs. There were vague feelings of jealousy, I think. I used to be jealous of her as a child because she was good looking.
I don’t remember the dialog, but she said something that triggered me. I slapped her hard and called her a bitch and an asshole – something I never would have done when younger nor in real life now. I tried to leave then. She grabbed me and I struggled. Old fear, anger and the like was evident in me. She was furious and I was dead if I didn’t escape. She was pulling on me and I was struggling to get farther away.
Eventually she had a grip on my legs and I managed to pull myself over a hand rail. My fall made her lose grip. For some reason in my fall a huge hand gun appeared in my hands. It looked like a toy to me, in truth and the metal looked like plastic painted with silver spray paint.
Suddenly a ton of mall guards/police officers appeared, apparently due to the huge scene we made. They had similar guns to mine. Apparently the gun in my hand had gone off, or something. I left the scene.
I had been wearing a leather jacket all this time, so I hid the gun in it as I left the mall. It was night by the time I reached the outside. I thought there is no way I can make it home. Then for some reason I knew my parents either weren’t home or didn’t want me home.
I walked for a while and was still near the mall. I saw a small building connected to it and knew I could make the jump. In my dreams I can jump to high places at times. I jumped and hid there.
Since I had left the scene and had a gun on me, I had a feeling I’d be the one given blame. I never pulled the trigger though and I never heard a gun shot. Even if we only got in trouble for quarreling, I’d still be the one at blame. I was the one who hit her.
I saw I was still in the odd jumpsuit and vaguely thought I should take it off. I knew I had jeans and a tank under it. It would help me be less recognizable despite my face was known. I was too tired and I suppose depressed thus uncaring by then though.
Suddenly a light passed my vision. A search light, I thought. I should try to hide in my surroundings. I tried, but some reporter popped up and saw me trying to flatten myself again a rock in the shadows.
For some reason Jovan showed up as well. I don’t remember what happened or what was said between us. I think my sister was dead, considering the hype going on around me. I woke up after that.

I can already guess what my mom would say if she heard this dream. It displays my suppressed anger in childhood. There was my helplessness against my sister and when I tried to go against her no one would help. Perhaps there was blame upon myself because I was suddenly seen as a perpetrator. I didn’t think my parents cared or were ever there when I needed them… Stuff like that.
The dream doesn’t really disturb me either. I had a dream regarding Peabody where he was alive in a plastic bag, the kind you get for groceries, and stuck him in a box. I closed the box, knowing it was necessary, but my conscious part kept saying, “But he’ll die! That is a terrible death! Don’t!” The box was shut and I left. I was disturbed by that dream for days… perhaps a week.
After I read some dream meanings, I began to ease though. The bag meant that what I held in it were my responsibilities. If there was a tear in it, the responsibility was burdening me. There was none. The box had the possibility of meaning I was trying to protect or preserve some part of myself or represent my limitations and restrictions. I think it was both. After that, the dream made sense.
This recent dream… doesn’t bring any disturbance to mind or emotion. I wonder if that means I really don’t care that greatly for my sister still. I know intellectually I care for her. She is my sister no matter what. We grew up together and she has impacted my life greatly good and bad. I don’t think I really regret our past together, because I like who I am today and the experiences you undergo help shape you.
If it is true I still don’t care for my sister that much emotionally… well, I think that is a shame really.

Continuance… (15 hours and thirty minutes later…)
I sometimes forget how different I am when I talk to my mother now. I told her about the dream. I think my response disturbed her a bit. Perhaps it was just my insecurity showing what I was expecting… but… I guess I was looking for whether my response would be accepted by her or not. Her view of me is important as far as I am concerned.
Her interpretation was that perhaps if I did indeed kill my sister in that dream, perhaps it was symbolizing my killing me fear, anger or whatever of her. Truthfully, she believes I did. I think I took that personally to a certain extent. Sure, it was just a dream, but even in that dream I don’t even know what happened.
Usually in dreams I know. In my dreams there are usually more implications. I would have heard a gunshot, felt the trigger, heard a scream, or something. Such did not occur. All I knew is that something happened to my sister.
Perhaps she was shot. Perhaps it was by me. Perhaps it was by those guards. Perhaps it was by someone who threw the gun into my lap. Perhaps she even died, I don’t know. I thought all of those possibilities in my dream.
I guess I was asking for it. After all, all my other dreams were of anonymous school mates and it only dealt with slapping, punching, telling off, or biting the perpetrators. This was of my sister and there was vague implication of death. Of course my mom would take it that way.
I think her interpretation is wrong also. What the dream meant, I don’t really care. I just know, after seeing and hearing her response… it wasn’t right. Before I went to sleep again, I thought of my sister and our past.
Deep embedded fear.
I feared her so much I couldn’t think straight or talk. That dream… reawakened a lot of memories too. There was her constant yelling and the constant fear. There was that time I tried to get away from her, ran to the house my brothers stayed in and sought sanctuary at. She followed me. I thought I was safe there. I was with my eldest brother. I was wrong.
She took hold of me and tried to drag me out of there. I actually tried to get away for once, but all hope died when my brother wouldn’t help me and told me to go with her. I gave up then. No one would help me. She dragged me back, but my physical fight was gone. When I still had some will vocally she hit me and called my mom. My mom only listened to her and said I was to do as my sister said.
There was no hope.
Heh… thinking of this… sends vague feelings behind my eyes, like they are on the verge of watering slightly.
I remember, when I confessed to my mom about my relationship with my sister… she thought our fighting was over something small. She thought it was only kid stuff…
Does “kid stuff” scar a person the rest of his or her life? Does it cause the will of beginning teen to take a living room couch as a bed for years to only get two to four hours of sleep at night and a screwed up back just to get away from his or her sibling? I didn’t even keep my clothes in anything. I just had them stacked up in my parents’ room.
What made them think I’d be so willful to live with no privacy like that over something petty?
Then again they never knew, looked or questioned. Sigh…
I guess the dream rings true. Though I can see all of this in a logical, understanding view… My emotions remain the same despite tempered. While I regret telling my mother the dream, I guess in a sense it is an awaking as well, which is something good. I still trust my mother, but she will never understand me completely. I still am not disturbed by the dream, but more by the effect it had on my parents when I mentioned it to them.
When it comes to my sister… I just regret the fact that even after all this time, her ways still are deeply embedded in my memory. She likely doesn’t remember a damn thing, hence why she is forgivable. It is the way she is. Yet as much as I can look at our past logically and with understanding… the past feelings will still linger.
The inside… in faint a faint subconscious way, I think internally a part of me is crying and hitting a wall out of loss, confusion and helplessness. It cries out, “Why?”
I guess my anger is due to not having my parents understand.
My sadness and frustration is over the fact all the things in my past had to happen.
Yeah… my eyes feel prickly.