A Dream: Stepping into Power After Experiencing Assault
Well, hello there.
I never expected to see you here again. You know, I used to dream of you often, but I haven’t dreamt of you for… how long has it been now, five years? You look exactly the same. Well, I suppose you would, wouldn’t you? This is a dream after all. Of course, you’d look the same as the day I saw you last.
I remember that day. You had that wide grin on your face; the one that stretches from ear to ear. The one that used to turn my back into stone. You were laughing with your old professor at the school where we had both become fresh alumni. But once he turned his back on you, your clownish smile swept off your face. You exposed that frantic little boy you desperately tried to hide from everyone. I saw it, though. You didn’t even know I was there — but I saw it.
It feels so strange talking to you here…now. It’s different than the other times you harassed me in my sleep. You didn’t have that angry expression you have now. You were smiling that smile. You were laughing at me. You were fully aware of the pain you caused me and it amused you. You knew I was unable to tell anyone of the harm you caused to my body and my spirit because of the shame you smeared on me. I shouldn’t have claimed that shame.
You should have.
It must have been that familiar scent that drew you in… a “pure” girl waiting for the “one”. Waiting for a good man whose Christ-like, firm leadership would keep me clean. Though your unwanted touch might have been my first, I was certainly not yours. You knew, didn't you — perhaps from experience — that once you crossed that line, your exposure would be my ruin. It was best that I kept silent.
Is that why you’re so angry at me now? Because I’ve finally stopped being quieted by the memory of rape? That I decided to take it out of that chest… out of my own personal Pandora’s box?
I didn’t even clean it off. I left the slime and grime and dirt you flung at it after you took the ultimate advantage of me. I then placed it on my chest and now continue to wear with pride. You never expected that, did you? It took long enough. I used to hide from the memory of what you did to me, fearing the crippling pain I wasn’t strong enough to bear.
Do you remember the last dream you were in? Well, I’ll tell you. I met someone — No not in a dream, in real life. I met him after I ended whatever hell I was in with you. He was nothing like you. He was nothing like anyone I had ever met. Every other boy who stumbled in my path reflected something of you in them. The way they looked at me like something to be hunted, to be claimed.
Yes, that’s it. That’s what all you men seem to see me as. Big game.
I didn’t see that in him. I could see my reflection in those perfect brown eyes of his and I saw… an equal. I know it’s a bit of a cliché, but I felt so safe with him. I had resigned myself to no longer be a castle to defend, but the dragon that burns it down. I refused to be hurt the way you hurt me again. I began building up the impenetrable armored scales that protected the fragile pain you left buried deep inside me. But he showed me I didn’t have to, at least not alone.
The last dream you were in, I suppose I didn’t see you at all, but I did hear you. That horrible manic laugh that reverberated through the walls of the café my psyche imagined. It almost seemed strange to hear your laugh mixed amongst the hubbub from my childhood youth group — who also just so happened to be there. As usual, I frantically hid from your inescapable laugh. I hid under the table that I was sitting at with him. Confused, he asked me why on earth I was hiding under the table.
“He’s here.” I whispered in a panic.
He didn’t need to ask. He knew I was talking about you. I could see rage build up in his face as I watched those beautiful brown eyes fill with fire. Without another word, he charged to wherever you were laughing.
That was it. I didn’t see you again… that is until now, five years later.
I healed during those five years with the help of my lover. Not only did I heal; I grew. I grew on the consumed knowledge about the weapon you used against me. I learned not only how to defend myself, but the best ways to fight back. I could feel his arms around my waist as he supported me while I limped, then walked, then ran. I no longer need his help. Now he smiles and cheers me on, flying on my own strength, the weight of the burden of your memory dangling around my neck like a trophy. It’s brave of you to come back here now.
You look desperate though, why is that? Is it because you no longer hold the same sway you held back then? Is it because I no longer need support to bear the weight of your damage? Is it because I no longer believe the lies that told me I needed to repent for your crime? That must mean I am rather strong now.
Yes, I am quite a powerful dragon.
Can you feel the heat coming from where you planted your shame inside of me? It’s my weapon now. Are you afraid? Good. I hope you are. I hope you squirm with discomfort when you look into my eyes. I’ve wanted to wipe that gratified grin off your face for so long now. Even if it is just a dream.
But know this, while sleeping or awake… I’m coming after you.
Christine Bingham began her journey as an artist by receiving her BFA at Cornish college of the arts where she specialized in painting and videography. She then moved to Scotland to receive her MFA where her focus was about the communal and beneficial aspics of art. She later moved to Beirut, Lebanon where she dove headfirst working with refugee and traumatized populations, teaching art to children as well as teaching art therapeutic techniques to educators within the field of relief amidst the Syrian refugee crisis. Christine has since moved back to Seattle with her husband and has been developing her visual art practice. Her current work primarily is focused on the experiences of women in the church through the lens of female saints. Christine heavily draws upon her own experiences with growing up in the Conservative Evangelical Church in Seattle as well as the traumas of sexual assault. Instagram: @christine.bingham.art
Want to help people on the healing journey in the aftermath of Spiritual Abuse? Give a donation to support survivors here.