They say if you don’t write down your dreams you’ll forget them.. So here I go, be warned I’m not a writer.
It started off, and me and this guy David were in my bed together… (hehe). I think the dream was a little raunchy at first, but it took a turn really fast. I think part of the reason I had this dream was because the Chick-Fil-A thing and how I’m constantly arguing with people. The other reason is because my dad just lost to my brother in a tennis match, and our family is very competitive, and he’s been treating my brother poorly for different reasons. I also have to add that in real life my dad is very supportive of me being gay. So yeah..
My dad enters my room, David and I try and sit up quickly tangled in each other’s limbs. My dad has this big grin on his face, the one he gets when he’s really proud of himself, but he knows he’s done something he shouldn’t have. He throws something on the bed and turns and runs away, him and our family friend are laughing as they run up the stairs. I look at the thing he threw at us. It’s grey, though it looks like it used to be purple. I unfold it and it’s a shirt, on the front are what used to be words. They’ve been melted and rearranged into an unreadable mess. David and I are looking at it in wonderment, it hit me. All the blood left my face and my heart hit the floor. It was my “legalize love” t-shirt, and my dad had destroyed it. I just knew, as one does in dreams, that he did it on purpose as a way to say he’s not okay with me being gay. Tears well up in my eyes and my shoulders start to shake. David tries to put his hand on me but I brush it off, I’m replaced with a cold fury. I excuse myself from the bed and put on some clothes.
Next thing I know I’m upstairs, screaming. I’m screaming my heart out. I’m screaming until my throat is on fire, but I don’t care. I’m screaming profanities and curses, at the same time I’m trying to get him to understand it’s not a choice. He shows no remorse and is laughing a little while nudging Haf and moving form room to room. We end up in the dining room, I’m on one side of the table and they’re both on the other. My mother is standing off to the side, her hand over her mouth, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. I wanted to reach out and tell her it’d be okay, comfort her and apologize for making her feel like this. But I’m too angry and I know she’ll forgive me later since she’s on my side. I’m still screaming, and they’re still laughing and smiling. I scream one more time and say something like, “Fuck you, you stupid bigot. You’ll never understand and I don’t care. I don’t want you in my life anymore.”. He then mocks me, and repeats what I say in a high pitched voice. I lose it. I grab one of the dinning room chairs and hurl it across the table, barely missing both of them. I remember thinking that David would probably hear all of this. However, this finally gets my dad’s attention and he starts screaming back. I yell, “fuck you” one more time and head for my room.
I slam the door coming down the basement steps as hard as I can and try and slam my bedroom door too. I’m still furious, I’m pacing back and forth in my room, clenching and unclenching my fists. I’m seeing red. My blood is pounding in my ears. I need to hit something. I spin around and look at David. The sympathy in his eyes seems to hurt the most. I unclench my fist and collapse on my bed. I let him hold me as the tears stream down my face, neither of us say a word and I drift off into sleep.