The Church of the Latter Day Fettered Fish (or Screaming Monkeys) and The Hissing Sisters

Date: 3/12/2017

By Fitful

In this dream I had a husband. I was having a few problems with him however, we were arguing and it was a thing which needed attention but it wasn't dire. However, my two sisters lived with us and they hated him. Whenever we argued, me and my husband, while we went our separate ways to cool down my sisters would whisper and hiss in my ear a lot of shit about him. They made it worse each and every time. I knew what they were doing and why. I wasn't even near letting them dictate if I left or not. Leaving was kinda laughable the problem wasn't that bad. But they got me into get my pants taken in. I had hurt my leg and this was a doctor's visit. The doctor offered and was pushing, at their insistence, that I shave my leg so to make the pants fit. Shave bone and meat I mean. It was a common procedure to make the more expensive pants lay right. The pants were tan slacks and didn't seem much different than the ones I had on, the difference was in a few shades of tan, maybe the fabric. I didn't want it but they kept hissing at me, in my ear, making up pretty songs with which to lure me. It was merely the difference between a few pounds making the pants fit a bit rumpled or smooth and sleek. I finally couldn't take their annoying me anymore and let the doctor do it. The scene deliberately swept over what happened, like a camera just cutting that part of the film out. I woke and felt something genuinely horrific had happened. I looked over the hospital list of procedures done to me and they only did three things, the first of which was bring in some religious church to do something. It was a type of torture but gussied up on paper. I knew however because The Church of the Latter Day Fettered Fish or Screaming Monkeys or some such thing filled me with absolute terror, I knew something very bad had happened. I could barely read the name of the thing without feeling my entire body screaming at me like it was post slavery/holocaust/war/conversion therapy or something. I felt like I had been through madness in hell, but perpetrated upon my body and psyche. I walked out of the hospital room, but I could barely walk. A protective guy I knew well, perhaps it was my husband I don't know, showed up and tried to help me. I refused to let him touch me. I had to hang on to walls for support. He hovered as I made my way slowly to the table in the middle of the cafeteria. The whole time another male was trying to get to me, get by this guy who I knew. I could barely move, I couldn't even walk really, and the other guy kept trying to get to me to...i guess take me off somewhere. Fulfill the original intention of the procedure perhaps. Maybe he worked for my sister's or was them. But the guy I knew refused to let him anywhere near me, kept his cool for a quite bit despite the situation warranting frustration. And when I was safely sat in the chair he went head to head with the other male, and they postured like males do before a fight -------- Sometime before this all happened I was dreaming about food, specifically sandwiches. It might have been after I don't know. Food. Sandwiches. Old sandwiches. Forgotten ones just eaten a bit. All of them fresh and ready to eat. I was on the floor in front of the refrigerator, and leaning into the thing for food literally flat out on my stomach on the floor.