Here you go, pt. 2

(Longer post) I had another extremely difficult PTSD dream

...and faced the ugliest of ugliest of ugliest of demons. I apologize that this is, in fact, a relatively longer story.

I'm typically a very good lucid dreamer, I'd say nine times out of ten- which lessens the blow of many of my kidnapping-related-nightmares. This was the sole purpose why I spent years training myself and learning specific lucid-dreamer-techniques among other stuff. (For the ones who haven't met or seen me: Hi, fellow PTSD survivor here, kidnapped *twice*, and experienced *all* forms of abuse that are existent and ran away with my life at the very first opportunity. Zero family, very few trusted friends/coworkers. Writer.)

One of my strongest lucid dream tactics, personally, is to push a hand or both arms **hard** up and against against a solid object, such as a wall.

There are plenty of effective lucid-dreamer-tactics, this is only one of them.

I've trained myself so much and so well that **almost anything** that resembles the house/houses/places where I was exploited, any slight resemblance at all, I'll almost mechanically do at least a few "reality checks" and harshly/critically assess my surroundings.

**However**, in this particular dream, which happened several hours ago, pressing a hand or limb really hard through a solid surface **did. not. work.**

This was scary not only in that moment, but possibly even scarier when I "finally" woke up. Because only then did I look back and realize the reality-check-trick *did not work* the way it typically does.

For those unfamiliar with dream/nightmare reality checks: A lucid dreamer will **usually** either a) realize the solid surface is not real, since by pressing hard they will realize they don't truly physically "feel" it and/or b) in many lucid dreams or dreams in general, by pressing hard enough you go **straight through** the surface or solid object- hence officially snapping you into realizing it is in fact only a dream or nightmare, and you're probably asleep in a bed. (If you are lucky to have one at all, or your own; I did not for most of my life to this point. I am 27 as of this writing).

I shall not divulge all of the ugly details at this time, but I will say this, which is what led to this post:

Upon pressing my hands hard into several solid surfaces, and no "going through the walls" occurring, which is, again, what happens for lucid dreamers in their dreams to let us know it's not real, my mind and feelings all sunk. Deeply.

This is real. I woke up here again. They found me. They will force substances into me. By forcing me to swallow chemicals and things that my body doesn't want or even need at all, or through injections. I am going to be hurt and exploited, over and over again and gaslit and used for the image and for the financial benefit and claims of someone else (parents).

They attempted to shut me up before and they're still desperate to get away with ***everything***, specifically looking like religious, church-leading, church-organizing, bible-study-leading "missionaries."

And that's not even five percent of that all that happened.

To protect myself from what they'd put me through before (I shall not include heavily triggering details as of this posting) I attempted a few escapes, without speaking or crying or shouting or sobbing heavily or even weeping; I was only logically invested in ensuring they cannot attempt to inflict what they did before: another literal attempt at brainwashing.

Hence in that PTSD dream, since the is-this-not-real technique did not work like it mostly does, I did the only thing that I could to maintain sanity, dignity, and not lose myself before the actual torture and know >!that I died!< as my actual self: >! commit suicide !<

Most of my songs are about this. Original ones, since writing is my drug, the only one I have, even though sometimes it hurts.

Same can be said of the book I wrote which I never sold- it's free, still is now.

Thank you for reading this very long post.

Danny

tl;dr

There really isn't one

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