Monday, March 24, 2014

Emergency Procedure

Threw out my personal journals, in total chronicling approximately the past thirteen years of my life. Experiences with drugs, sex, spirituality, dreams, and loss that were integral to my spiritual, emotional, and psychological growth are all gone.
A strange dream, not yet analyzed:
I'm heavily pregnant at a music event when I collapse, and an ambulance is called for me. As I arrive at the hospital my doctor approaches me with my information, and asks permission for surgery.
 The infant was delivered via emergency cesarean, as my life was in danger. My doctor assured me it was necessary, and I would be alright after the hysterectomy. I seemed un-phased by the loss of my sexual and reproductive organs. My womb was empty, no baby, no organs, and yet left the hospital to search for two possible fathers at the outdoor concert. I urged them both to hurry back to the hospital; additionally, I mentioned that my surgery was incomplete, and I needed to heal. As we arrive at the hospital, my drugs are wearing off, and I notice how unsanitary and contaminated the hospital beds are. The walls are dirty, floors covered in stained rags, there is exposed metal, wires, and crawl spaces throughout the hospital. Paternity and medical background checks for both men, they are more than agreeable.
Instruments were still inside me, and I could feel a hunk of metal inside my pelvis. I search the hospital for my surgeon in an attempt to complete the procedure and remove the re-tractors that are holding my remaining organs in place. A man approaches me in the hospital, and I could sense he was a sinister and wicked man. He attempted to sexually assault me, but instead of fighting him, I spoke to him calmly. I told him that he could try to rape me, but I had no female organs so I was not really a woman. I was just a shell of a woman, and I could potentially die from internal bleeding. It wouldn't be very appetizing, I suggested.
He seemed hesitant, as if he was disgusted by me. I took advantage of his indecision, and attacked him while he had his guard down. I gouged his left eye with my thumbs, then his right, then struck him repeatedly before ripping the left optic nerve from his eye socket, and squished it around in my hand. I felt delightful pleasure at the prospect of doing it again. "This will be fun. Again!" He writhed in pain from the shock and expired slowly. I stood there for a long time contemplating what else I could potentially do. I didn't have time, I had to find the surgeon, complete the surgery, and get back to the pressing issues in my life. I had two men in a heated battle over me and the newborn. Who would win? I did not care in the least, and I remained un-invested.

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