Grimace
I dreamt I was raped the other night. Sometimes it was me, that is, and sometimes it was another woman with a dark bouffant hair-do. Definitely outside though and the hulking back of the man was covered by a charcoal wool overcoat. Everybody (a crowd gathered at some point) had their mouths open and I dream-heard yelling, crying, grunts and groans. I woke up angry and I hate doing that. In the bathroom I washed the grimace off, worked at getting my teeth clean.
The women have called out to each other in their dreams, I think. We are weaving an enormous cloth and when it is ready we will touch it with our fingertips or if we need to will grab hunks of the stuff in our fists. Little girls, too. They will hold on, too.
"In the bathroom I washed the grimace off"
Beautiful.
Strange how dreams/nightmares distort our features.
Jeesh, indeed. To paraphrase Hercule Poirot (saw the new movie last nite), We're supposed to be better than the beasts.
Esp. liked the second paragraph. Beautiful. *
Insightful
An unseen tidal wave crashing on our shores. I must be naive, never thought it was so huge.*
I'm with you, Nonnie! It is getting to us. We are going to transform it to heart if possible, to art as required. I really like the tooth brushing scene. And I like how the undercurrent -- didn't Garp call it the undertow? -- is surging even in dreams. Dream writing is memoir and fiction to a perfect degree. *
Powerful references to the mouth, mouth sounds and mouth hygiene obfuscates the perceived sense of rape initiated in the first sentence. But then violations occur in a multiplicity of places. But then when dreams become reality or vice-versa. Good writing. *
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*, Nonnie. A well-written, hopeful forecast.
Love this. Transcendent. The last sentence does it for me.