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Your Folder Has My Name On It

I've always been a heavy dreamer. Ever since I can remember I had some truly wacky dreams. And by wacky I mean nightmarish many times, or just surreal wacky the rest of the times. I can actually count the number of times I had beautiful, and peaceful dreams - I have trouble remembering any right now.

The wacky surreal type dreams feature realistic type interactions, usually with people that are already in my life at the time of dreaming. These dreams seem to hold the existing emotional energy between me, and the person from my dream, and sometimes they are filled with all sorts of symbols.

After A. and I met, I had numerous dreams of him. The following is one of them.

***

We were in whatever was that lounge room of his. The room had a different interior than the interior I saw the night we met; a different interior with the same vibe. On the wall opposite the window there was a double bed, with tan coloured sheets. It felt as if we were in a relationship. We were lying naked in bed, next to each other. We started making love.

We were in an embrace, with him on top of me. All of a sudden he held me still making me feel I couldn't escape. He looked into my eyes, and I looked into his. As I was looking into his eyes, I saw them turning red. He acted as if he wanted me to see his eyes turning red. I instantly became terrified, and felt I had no escape. It seemed that in that moment he showed me his true colors. It seemed it was turning out he really was that entity I had hoped he wasn't. Whatever love I ever perceived coming from him, seemed like a lie meant to lure me in. I didn't know how to react to his eyes turning red, so I said nothing. I felt paralyzed, and I let him continue thrusting, but it stopped feeling like we were making love the moment his eyes turned red. It stopped feeling we were making love the moment I came to fear him. When the 'love making' ended, he didn't acknowledge anything that just happened. I didn't know who he was anymore, and I was scared. His failure to acknowledge what happened scared me even more, and I found myself thinking I should free myself from him. I acted as if nothing happened, just like he did. I didn't want to confront him, and possibly jeopardize my potential escape. It was only potential escape, because in that moment, I thought that maybe it was all a result of my imagination.

We both made our way to the bathroom in complete silence. It felt we were both pretending nothing out of the ordinary happened. For a moment, I thought I was just imagining he was unperturbed, but he was too silent. Something happened, but he was pretending it didn't happen. That had me feeling a lot of fear. I feared that if I was confront him, he would just gaslight me. Then, I found myself hoping that the oddity of his silence meant he was just working up the courage to tell me something weird happened to him when we were making love. I found myself hoping he was going to address what just happened.

I waited to see if he was going to say anything. A day, or maybe several passed with both of us pretending everything was normal.

One day, when he wasn't home, I decided to go to a place I knew had folders with files on everyone, on everything a person is, and isn't. Files containing the essence of their being, and all alterations of the soul, that society's conditioning made happen. It was a big office building of sorts. In those offices there were cabinets filled with such folders. This was where I was going to find everything there was to know about him, about his being. This was the place I was going to find out about his demon ways.

I entered a dark office, opened a cabinet, and looked for the folder that had his name on it. When I found it, I double-checked to make sure it was his folder. It had his name written on it, A.M. I took it, held it close to my chest, and got out of there before anyone could see me.

It was raining outside, and I was making my way through a market. I was impatient thinking of the contents of that folder. I started contemplating ringing my ex-boyfriend hoping for advice. I was playing a conversation with him in my mind, going through possible scenarios. As I was thinking about sharing the contents of A.'s folder with my ex, I realised the folder I was holding had my name on it. I was sure the folder I took out of that cabinet had A.'s name on it, but somehow the name had changed from A.M. to T.C. How did that happen? I was now revisiting every step I took when I entered that office. I was going over every little thing in my memory, revisiting every single detail of how I went searching through the cabinets looking for his folder, how upon finding it, I double and triple checked it had his name on it. How could now, all of a sudden that folder have my name on it?

                                                                                ***

What am I to make of this dream? What do you want me to make of it? What should I make of it?

All there is to see in your folder is the same as all there is to see in my folder? All there is to know about you, is all there is to know about myself? Does that mean I am the Devil in our story? I fear that, but then it only felt awful, but it wasn't.