Addiction & Disappointment

Date: 7/23/2019

By THATginger

time: 5:30am on 7/23, 2019 I am looking to insight into a dream. It needs a bit of context: my parents are very religious and had always imposed very rigid principals and rules on my life. So much so that they kicked me out of the house when I was 19 because I had told them I was not interested in Christianity anymore and would not pretend to be something different than I am. They still do not “fellowship” with me. They will answer practical questions, but would not talk to me or help me outside of this. I fell into heavy drug use, (drinking a handle of Jack Daniels a week and using Heroin Daily). This all culminated in me attempting suicide and being sent to the hospital/suicide and detox ward. I just turned 21 so all this is relatively recent. But I have just recently been feeling like I had fully processed it and have moved on in a healthy way. So here is the dream: My parents make a plethora of amazing looking deserts. I mean amazing. They were all white with red or blue or chocolate/caramel drizzles on top on ornate silver plates. The kitchen was filled with them how you would imagine heaven to be. It is Christmas and we are expecting company (which is odd because my parents do not celebrate Christmas). My dad asks me about my internet browsing history and if it is “clean.” I know that I watch porn and that if he knew he would loose his shit, so I reply “no.” He then proceeds to pull out his phone and show me a recording of my iPhone screen of when I was watching porn. I then start coming up with excuses saying that it was an add on an app, but the video goes on long enough and I know he just isn’t buying it. He says I need to meet with a bunch of other men at the church and talk about my “problem with pornography.” I start fighting him on this saying I wouldn’t do that, and I also know that if they take my phone away and go through it they will find other things they disapprove of, so the reality and trouble is very real and hits home based on my childhood. I then freak the fuck out. Screaming and crying and saying “I know I’m a horrible person I watch Porn and Shot up Heroin!” Over and over. Next thing I know I loose the ability to talk or move and fall face first on the floor, drooling like a fucking child. I start trying to call for my Dad to just look over my way so that he can help me (because I’m obviously very scared about what is wrong with my body at this point). But he continues making desert. After barely getting the words “help me” out, he turns around for a brief moment taking in my pain the way a strangling vine takes in the sun, then turns his back on me. I feel utter despair. I wake up. With my arms beneath my pillow (unable to move them as they have fallen asleep), still trying to say “help me!”