Part Four: Free at Last

Blood on the Floor


I'd had that terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach all day, so
when I saw Myron drive past the Food Bank several times as I stood
in the line up waiting to get in, I wasn't the least bit surprised.
If anything, I was somewhat relieved to know exactly where he was
even if I didn't have a clue what he was up to. Before I actually
managed to get inside the busy building and pick up our food hamper,
Myron drove past me at least four times. This was highly unusual
because, not only was Myron not going to the Food Bank that day
because it was "Families Only" day, but the Food Bank itself was at
the edge of town on a seldom used road. So it was hardly as if he
was "on his way" somewhere. As usual his presence had me shaken so
I was especially glad that Nita and I had decided to make the trek
together that morning. She was able to leave 2 of her kids at home
with Jed, but like always I had to bring mine with. Usually I
walked to and from the Food Bank and everywhere else I needed to
go. Just me and the kids.

I was also particularly grateful that Nita had arranged for a ride
home for us. What with 3 kids between us and enough groceries to
supply 2 families for at least a week, the walk home across town
would have been long and arduous to say the least. Thankfully Doug,
Nita's best friend had a truck and nothing to do that morning. And
thankfully also, he was a genuinely nice guy who didn't mind helping
out a friend in need. Or the friend of a friend in need for that
matter.

After Nita and I had received our monthly hampers from the generous
folks at the Food Bank, we sat outside on the curb and waited for
Doug. Nita scarcely had time to finish her cigarette when he pulled
up in his truck. With a smile on his face as always he asked "Hey,
beautifuls need a ride somewhere?" We all piled in and buckled up
the kids as best we could while Doug loaded our groceries in the
back. Just as we were about to drive off Myron drove past us yet
again. By this time I was visibly shaken and Doug could see it on
my face. "Has that asshole been buggin' you again, Lor?" he queried
with genuine concern. As I fumbled for words and choked back tears,
Nita answered for me. "Yeah Doug, he's been following her around
again." Then she added, "You better just come to my house Lor". We
all agreed that this would be the safest plan of action. So off we
drove, Doug, me and the Kids and Nita and Adam, at ease at least for
the moment.

We determined it would be most convenient if we stopped by my
apartment on the way to Nita's house. This way, I could unload my
groceries and grab what the kids and I would need for the rest of
the day and the night if we decided to sleep over. Quickly as I
could I raced up stairs with the diaper bag. While Nita stayed in
the truck with the kids, Doug packed my groceries up the stairs and
helped me put away the stuff that needed refrigeration. As Doug and
I headed back down the stairs and locked up the apartment, who
should drive by one more time but Myron.


This time he cast Doug the most vicious glance and yelled at him out the window of his car "You better watch out, Doug! Ha Ha!" And drove off down the street. The
three of us, along with just about everyone else we knew, were used
to Myron's threats and accusations, so we didn't make too much of
the spectacle. I tried my best to downplay his actions for the
benefit of the kids who sat in the truck with looks of confusion on
their tiny faces.


After we got to Nita's house Doug hung around for a while helping
Nita unpack the groceries and put them away. While they did that I
hung out in the kitchen with them getting lunch ready for the kids.
We had 6 kids in all that day, which wasn't at all unusual. As well
as Nita's three boys, David, Jacob and Adam, and my two kids, Jakob
and Cassidee, or Cassie-Annie as Nita's boys called her, we also had
Louie. Louie, whose real name was Desmond was Nita's nephew. The
two year old son of Nita's younger sister Destiny was Cassidee's
best little playmate as they were born just a month apart.
Cassidee's birthday was in January and Louie's in February.

All things considered, we were having a relaxing afternoon at Nita's
cozy little house. The kids were watching movies in the living room
and the adults were enjoying some good conversation and laughter in
the kitchen. Despite the antics from Myron earlier that day, most
of us were having a fine time. Cassidee and Louie were probably
having the most fun of all. Every chance they could get, whenever
they were out of sight of a parent, they would empty all of Nita's
CD collection out of their cases, spread them all out over the
floor, and dance upon them. It was as if they thought the shiny
plastic objects were a special little dance floor just for them.
When I walked in to the living room and saw the disaster it was all
I could do not to laugh out loud. But I kept my composure and
cleaned up the mess quietly. While doing this I could hear voices
in the kitchen, this time they weren't only Doug and Nita's.


After carefully putting the CDs away for the third time, I returned
to the Kitchen to see Destiny's friend Kim standing in the doorway.
She looked as though she had seen a ghost. Before she could come
in, I glanced behind her and could instantly tell what she was upset
about. Myron was standing directly behind her with the most
menacing look on his face. We hurriedly rushed Kim in the house and
double locked the doors. Myron left, almost immediately but not
without whispering an ominous warning to me through the side
window "I'll be back with a club!" He promised. That vow sent
chills up my spine and by the look on everyone's faces I could tell
I wasn't the only one who was upset. So much for our nice quiet
afternoon.







After we fed all the kids and got the kitchen cleaned up again, Kim
decided it was finally safe for her to go home. Myron hadn't come
back as he promised and we all decide he wasn't going to. This was
most likely just another one of his idle threats. So Doug decided
that since he had to go home for dinner anyways, he'd drop Kim off
at her house on the way. It was as great idea as Kim was certainly
not feeling like walking around town by herself. Especially now
that it was beginning to get dark. So Doug decided he would do what
he had to do and come back to check on us just as soon as he could,
leaving us his cell phone, just in case. Just in case Myron came
back before Doug did. Just in case he was even more intoxicated
than he had been earlier. Just incase he was even angrier at me
than he had been before. With Myron around it seemed there were
always so many things to worry about, so many `just in case's.


While Doug was gone, Nita and I were both a little uneasy. Neither
one of us were wimpy chicks, but there was just something about
Myron, his behaviour, his attitude, his mere presence that set us on
edge and put the fear in us. I know that silently we were both
eagerly awaiting Doug's return. He could have stayed there with us
the entire day and night and that would have been just fine with
us.

Despite the unusual circumstances, the kids were having a ball as
they normally do when there are just too many of them in one room.
And Nita and I decided that to get our minds off Myron's antics,
we'd play some cribbage. And heck, perhaps we'd even have a drink.
Nita had some left over Christmas vodka in the cupboard. Not being
much of a drinker, she had no problem saving it for a special
occasion. While this occasion wasn't exactly special, it certainly
did call for something to calm the nerves and lighten the mood. So
Nita mixed us up a couple of Bloody Caesar's, extra salty and extra
spicy for me, and we sat at the kitchen table and played crib.

It wasn't long into our game when our concentration was broken by a
sound in the backyard. It was hard to distinguish, but sounded like
someone walking through the yard. Aloud Nita and I both
suggested "Doug's back" We waited and waited for the knock at the
door, but it never came. Reluctantly, as I could still hear
footsteps outside and they sounded like they were very close to the
house, I peered outside the blue curtains of Nita's kitchen window
just in time the see Myron walking around the corner and on to the
street. Almost as if he knew I was watching or maybe because he was
sure I would, he turned around and flashed me an malevolent
smile. "Told ya I'd be back" And off he walked. Nita and I guessed
that he was making yet another trip to the liquor store as Nita's
house was about half way between Myron's house and Downtown. But he
certainly did not have to walk through her yard to get there. He
was definitely going out of his way to torment us for some
mysterious reason.





By the time Doug finally did arrive, Myron had walked by Nita's
house two more times. Once on his way back form the liquor store,
with bottles of booze in hand. This time, instead of saying
anything he just stood outside in the yard seemingly waiting for
someone to notice him. By then I was getting really freaked out, so
Nita was the one who poked her head out the curtains. Sure enough
she said, he was in the yard, leaned up against the shed in the back
yard having a cigarette just as nonchalantly as could be. As if it
was normal to walk through someone's yard again and again for no
apparent reason but to cause alarm. As if it was usual to stop in
the yard in the dark and smoke a cigarette alone, leaned up against
the shed like a thug.

The last time he showed his face at Nita's house that night was just
shortly before Doug arrived. This time it seemed he was getting a
bit more brazen. Nita and I conjectured that perhaps an afternoon
of non-stop trips to the liquor store had Myron feeling ten feet
tall and bullet proof. Not only did he unnecessarily cut through
Nita's front and back yard on the way to the store, but he also slid
open her kitchen window, parted the curtains and stuck his head in.
And in doing so he uttered the oddest most perplexing statement I
had ever heard. "If it happens more than twice, it's stalking!" he
stated before he closed the curtains and left.

The sheer oddity of this situation and the peculiarity of his
remarks had Nita and me in a panic. What did he mean? Why did he say
that?

When Doug arrived, we were both near tears. It had been one
heck of a day and it certainly wasn't getting any better. Doug was
reassuring as usual. "Oh don't worry about him, girls. He's not
gonna do anything while I am around. I'll just stay here. I'll stay
all night if I have to"

No sooner did those words leave Doug's mouth than we heard a
terrible smashing sound coming from the back yard. The smashing
sounded unmistakably like breaking glass.
"What the fuck did he just do?" Doug said the words that were in
everyone's minds. There was no question that Myron had been
responsible for the breaking glass, but just what had broken was yet
to be discovered.

As Doug hastily opened Nita's back door, to see what all the action
was, we could clearly see his truck. And every window in it had
been smashed to bits including his side view mirrors. Suddenly I
realized just what he had meant when he said he'd be back with a
club. Seeing what Myron had done to his truck had severely pissed
Doug off. "that's the last straw" he fumed. "'I've had enough of
this. I'll be right back" With that, Doug proceeded to walk the few
short blocks to Myron's to see what his beef was.

Nita and I were on the edge of our seats, anxiously awaiting Doug's
return and hoping that Myron didn't come back here in the mean
time. Myron had been getting gradually more and more twisted over
the last few weeks and Nita and I were both frightened of what he
could do. Especially since we had so many children with us.
Yes, Doug had left us his cell phone for emergencies, but somehow
that did not give either one of us reassurance that Myron wouldn't
harm us.


When Doug finally came back several minutes later he was walking
kind of funny and didn't look quite right. Something had definitely
gone down at Myron's house. When I looked at his face I could see
that something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. Doug's
face was as white as a ghost and he looked as if he was about to
pass out. I was about to ask what happened when I noticed blood on
Doug's right hand. Did he hurt Myron? Did they fight? Then I
noticed the blood wasn't just on his hand but all down his arm and
his leg. On his face. Quietly, faintly Doug whispered a
sound "hhhehh." I did not understand what he was saying.

As Doug staggered into the kitchen, his legs gave way and he fell
in a large heap on the floor. He tried to get up, but could only
manage to lay down flat on his back. His breathing was heavy and
forced and his movement was slow and methodical. And the blood just
kept coming. It was pouring and pouring and pouring. I could not
tell where it was coming from but it was definitely Doug's blood.
My mind was racing trying to fit the pieces together and my stomach
was churning at the sight of my friend so covered in his own blood.


Quietly I heard Doug whisper to Nita "Call 911 he stabbed me"

As Doug lied in a pool of blood on Nita's kitchen floor waiting for
the ambulance, minutes seemed like hours. I tried desperately to
keep all the kids confined to the living room so they couldn't see
what had happened. At the same time, I wanted to be by Doug's side
to make sure he was going to be alright. I was so shaken and guilt
ridden that I could barely think straight. "I'm sorry Doug, I'm
sorry Doug was all I could say while we waited for the ambulance to
arrive. Over and over again. "I'm sorry Doug" through sobs. "I am
so sorry."

"It's ok sweetie, it's not your fault." Doug whispered between
forced breaths. But as the pool of blood surrounding my friend grew
larger and larger I realized I didn't believe him.




















It's the blood
It's the blood
That I remember most
Next the shaking
The convulsing
The beads of sweat
On his forehead
And the feelings
Of guilt
That perhaps it truly
Was my fault.
And the bright lights
that so illuminated
almost magnified
that horrible pool
of electric plasma
Expanding
Expanding
Till it covered every
Last white spot
on the cold linoleum floor
And the pale blue-grey hue
Of the man lying within
That crimson pond
And the words
So unreal, faint
Like a distant echo
It's okay, Sweetie.
I'm okay
And the blood
And the blood
All the blood









High Alert

“This is Myron…” whispered the gravelly voice on the answering machine. After a short pause, he continued. “The father of the children…” Almost as if I didn’t know him by name alone. Next a longer pause as if he was deciding what to say next. “I will be in town on Saturday for Jakob’s birthday so you can’t say you’re not forewarned.” Then, seemingly as an afterthought, though in the same gruff voice and disdainful tone he added “Have a nice week.”

That one brief voice mail was enough to completely set me on edge. To send my blood pressure sky-rocketing, start my heart pounding and drive my mind racing in to an endless spiral of “what-if”s. Just the sound of his contemptuous voice was enough to start the picture reel in my mind of all the terrible things that once had been. These memories, though so long buried are certainly not forgotten and at times like these the mere sound of his voice could easily set my restless mind in motion.


It didn’t really matter to me that Myron had ended the message with a faint attempt at congeniality. Every cell in my body screamed silently in protest at his feigned efforts. Though several years had passed since Myron had physically hurt me, my body reacted as though not a day had gone by. So no matter how many times I tried to console myself, reassuring that was then, this is now, nothing seemed to dull the edginess I always felt when I knew he’d be around.


Nor did it matter that he was calling because of Jakob’s birthday. My son’s birthday was Thursday August the 12th not Saturday August 14th as Myron mistakenly thought. For some years now, despite repeated corrections from me; Myron insisted that Jake’s birthday was August the 14th. After a while I didn’t bother trying to set him straight anymore. Yes, Myron was at the hospital the day Jakob was born, but I guess he didn’t quite remember. Perhaps repeated trips from the maternity ward to the local strip-bar to quench his fatherly thirst had clouded not only his judgment, but his memory as well.

Hanging up the phone that day, I couldn’t help but think aloud “Jesus Christ, here we go again. I am getting so tired of this shit.” Thankfully, the kids weren’t home to hear me. But it was true. I was getting tired. Not only was I tired of the endless mind games, guilt trips and accusations, but I was tired of being afraid. I was tired of sleeping with a knife under my pillow and steel pipes and baseball bats at the front and back doors. I was tired of having to go talk to each one of my neighbors each time I thought Myron might be in town. I was tired of having to make new safety plans that involved innocent people that were all too willing to help us should he come around, angry.

I was tired of having to borrow my brother’s Pit Bull Terrier for protection in case he broke into my house whilst I slept. I was tired of having my friends come knocking on my door warning “Myron’s in town, Lor, you better come stay with us”. I was tired of waking up at midnight and looking out the window watching every shadow then checking on the kids, just to be safe. I was tired of having to spend the night at my mother’s for no reason at all except that I had “that feeling” again.

I was tired of having to explain our situation to new teachers every time the kids had to change schools. I was tired of changing my phone number because Myron had somehow gotten it again. I was tired of moving into a new house, a new neighbourhood or even a new town or Province because he had found us one more time. I was tired of not making new friends for fear that something could happen to one of them if Myron had spiraled into one of his jealous fits. After nearly eight years of separation from Myron Dallas Effa I was tired. I was just plain tired.





Windows shut tight despite the sweltering heat
And doors locked, barricaded speak of a danger imminent
Cell phones plugged in turned on
Neighbours in the back and on both sides are on high alert

The broken sleep I do manage to get is interrupted
Time and again
First by a faint noise outside
Is that him? Is he here?
Then by two dogs barking down the alley
Are they warning?
Finally by a shadowy figure faintly visible
Behind the grape vines of the house next door

Startled, relieved I breathe
I knew he was near
The lump in my throat and pit in my stomach assured me
He was on his way
These warning signs have yet to steer me wrong

Though I know he can see me watching him watching
He does not turn or look away
Smugly, slyly he continues to stare me down
As if invincible above any law

A steely calm begins to wash over me
Survival instincts take over
Replacing the tension, nervous fear of falling asleep
Lest I awaken to find him
Once more
In my house
In my bed
In me
The coolness brings with it thoughts, nay wishes
That have danced round my mind
Countless times before
Memorized by now, each one of them
I am certain I could execute
Each and every scenario
Effortlessly emotionless perfectly

Never am I disappointed nor disgusted with my self
For plotting such deadly scenes

For, the woman trapped inside me
Who devises these schemes
Would die the very instant
Such a plan was executed
Thus giving birth
At that same moment
To a new life
A new
Fearless
Me





And then, the Dreams

Since leaving Myron, the dreams would come, off and on, usually in the form of frightening nightmares though sometimes they were horrifying flashbacks, sometimes memories I had suppressed and sometimes they were scenarios of what might have been. Always, I would wake up, sweating, and afraid, each nightmare taking me back to that place, that awful place. Sometimes I would go weeks or months with not a thought or a dream of him, but then something would trigger a memory, often an event, or a date would bring Myron in to my daily focus. This would inevitably spill over into my night.

In the beginning, I didn’t record any of these dreams. I wanted them over, forgotten erased. But after some time, possibly a few years, it became evident that these dreams were a part of my therapy. They were a way for me to process the events that I hadn’t dealt with yet. It was then I decided to record them. I realized I could work within my dreams on healing parts of me that Myron had wounded. Things he had stolen from me, I now could replace.

So I made it a priority, a mission, instead of being plagued by nightmares of my ex husband to use them to try and make myself whole again. I would, within the dream, do things I never thought possible in real life. I would take back my power and release myself form the hold that Myron still had on me, both in my waking life and as I slept.


Nightmare and revelation

In this dream Myron had found the kids and I and was in our house. I spent the majority of the dream being hunted by him and trying to keep him away from my kids. I was trying to get to my Mom and my Brother who were also in the house, but at the same time I was trying to stay away from Myron and keep him away from the kids. He had various weapons, metal bars (which he often used when fighting in real life) which he was swinging at me, knives that he was slashing me with.

The whole scenario went on for quite some time, with me running down back staircases, trying to get away, holding both kids, and each time he would find me and get just close enough to hit me or cut me. Then I would get away once more and the same thing kept happening over and over again. At one point found a phone so I thought I could dial 911, but when I picked up the receiver I noticed that the numbers were all mixed up and I couldn’t find the 9.

I ended up finally getting the kids to safety in my Mom’s car. And we locked all the car doors and they drove away. I stayed behind in the house to make sure he didn’t see them or follow them.

For some reason I went back inside the house, possibly to do what I could never do in real life. When I got to where he was, he saw that the kids were gone and became furious with me. He reached up and pulled a light bulb right out of the socket with his bare hands. Of course it broke, but he wasn’t bleeding.

He was slashing at me with the broken bulb and was cutting me all over my chest and arms. I could see my own blood everywhere and my clothes were all shredded up. Somehow, he dropped the light bulb and I picked it up and while he was bending down to get it I hit him over the head with a heavy metal plate. So then he was lying on the ground. And he was still breathing though not moving very much.

At this point, I knew I had to do something if I ever wanted to be free from him. I looked at the broken light bulb in my hand and decided I had to do it NOW! Before he came to. So I carefully cut his jugular with the sharpest point of the light bulb. It was as if in slow motion. I stuck the shard into his neck as far as it would go and the blood was slowly seeping out. I was beginning to relax when he started to move and I realized this was not going to kill him. Then I realized how mad he was going to be that I cut him. I was terrified! Right when he started rolling around, I woke up.

After I woke up I began to say to myself “Why do I keep having nightmares about him still after all this time?” I realized that a little bit of it is fear. I still am a bit afraid that he might show up and try to hurt me or the kids, but then I noticed something. I felt like I was victimizing myself by asking that question.
So I asked myself a similar question, but in a different “Why do I keep giving myself nightmares of him?”

The answer to this question was quite surprising.
It didn’t boil down to fear at all at least not completely. I am actually feeling guilty, for having given my kids that kind of dad. But also, I realized that these dreams of Myron, of me hurting him were one way of me re-doing the past, of changing things that I had no way to change then. This was my way of fighting back safely.



Truck driving skull crushing dream

After not dreaming of Myron for quite some time I had another, pretty violent and gory, dream. Without going into the gruesome details, as this dream was explicitly violent, here is the gist of it.

Myron was chasing me, following me through the halls of a large building. It was dark, but somewhat like an apartment or perhaps a factory or commercial building.

As per usual, I would hide and he would find me, again and again.
This time though I got violent with him, clubbing and clubbing him over his head with a huge wooden bat.

Of course after each blow he would still get up and walk, coming after me again.
Finally after what seemed like an eternity of playing this game with him, I hit him and his skull smashed into tiny pieces. The top of his head sort of crumbled. I was then able to get away, safely with no fear of him following me and taking revenge.

When I got down to the parking garage, I hopped into a truck and started to drive. Suddenly, Myron showed up from out of nowhere, like a bad horror film and got in front of the truck, begging me to help him. He wanted to get in, so I could drive him to a hospital or somewhere to get help. His head was now somewhat healed, though still scabby and disgusting, it wasn’t the gaping mess it had been after I initially inflicted the blows. I wasn't going to let him in the truck, but somehow he managed to get in anyway.

He made his way to the driver’s seat and pushed me to the passengers side.
Somehow, whilst trying to remain in the driver’s seat, to retain control of the slowly moving vehicle, my hand ended up on his head which caused me to completely cave in the entire top of his skull.

This was the worst part of the dream as I could feel it all so lifelike. His head was very soft and scabby. After I did this, Myron looked at me, pitifully and was telling me that I should feel badly for what I had done. Oddly, I was completely remorseless. I even began to think thoughts like “you deserved that". This dream ended with me driving the truck, and he injured, slumped in the passenger seat. I was feeling rather emotionless; in fact I was cool as a cucumber.



Stick Pins

In this dream, Myron was in the house with the kids and I had to run to the basement to get something. The basement was dark and I was having trouble finding the item.
I heard Jake screaming, blood curdling screams so ran up the stairs to see what was wrong.
Myron was on the couch with Jake. He was holding him down hurting him.

He had my little boy in a locking hold and was twisting him around; contorting his tiny body in ways a body shouldn’t move. Jake was screaming like I had never heard before and the screaming didn’t stop.
I tried to get Myron to stop, by first asking him, then yelling. Then I started hitting him unafraid of his retaliation. He wouldn’t stop hurting Jake . Instead he began poking him with a pin. It was a stick pin with a red tip on it.

I continued kicking Myron and yelling at him and trying to pry Jake away from him to no avail. So I did some quick thinking and decided that if I kicked Myron in the groin, he'd have to let Jake go. So I did. I kicked him as hard as I could repeatedly. Over and over again, but it just wasn't working. Myron was so strong and so crazy that nothing fazed him. Even repeated kicks in the genitals, didn’t appear to hurt him.

He began poking me with the stick pin, now. And while it hurt tremendously, I was relieved that at least for the moment he was leaving Jake alone.

Just then I saw Cassidee sort of standing, watching, kind of dazed.
I said to Cass "Go get me a knife. Get me a knife!"

I decided that now was the time. The only way to get Jakob free and save ourselves would be to kill him.

But Cassidee didn’t budge. It was as if she was frozen in place. I was terrified and trying desperately to figure out what to do, how to save us. Then I heard a voice from the dream say to me "She can see him standing behind her".


To this day, I still have no idea of the significance of that dream voice. It must have been talking about Myron, but how could he have been standing behind her? And how could she possibly have seen what was behind her if she was looking at me.

SO many questions still remain unanswered, about this dream voice, but the closest I can get to an accurate interpretation t is that figuratively, and symbolically, since Myron is her Dad, she didn’t want to help me kill him, as that would be like killing part of herself. She can see him, standing behind her like a father should, maybe she quietly hoped for a true father, standing behind her in good times and bad. Perhaps she knew if she killed him that would never ever come to pass. As unlikely as that was, perhaps Cass was holding on to the only hope she had. How could I try and take that away from her? She had already lost so much.




Someone Please Call 911

This time I dreamed I was alone with Myron in an apartment, ground floor. He was angry and began to yell about something. My younger brother, Shawn came in to the apartment and Myron began yelling and cursing at him. They started fighting physically.

The fight ended up in somewhat of a wrestling match and they headed toward the bedroom where there was a mattress on the floor. The person who was my brother was now another man whom I did not recognize. And Myron was on top of him and beating him badly. Suddenly after a huge blow to the head, the man collapsed in a lifeless heap. I thought he was dead and began to panic, but then heard him breathing slowly so knew he was alive. Though he seemed to be in a bit of a coma.

I ran to the phone called 911 (knowing now that I could make things right in the dream by calling 911 for all the times I didn’t make the call in real life). The 911 operator answered and knew who I was and also knew Myron. She was very nice and told me she'd send somebody right over.

The wait seemed like forever and Myron was trying to leave the house. The front door wasn't working so he tried to leave out the Patio doors. But a car pulled up just then which prevented him from leaving. I thought it was the people the 911 had dispatched but it turned out to be an elderly couple. They stayed long enough to prevent Myron from fleeing before the ambulance and police arrived.


Even in a dream, if felt nice to have some help and support in my fights against Myron. To feel cared for and protected against him.
Rebirth and a Key

This dream started with Myron in the house with me. There were a few others there as well. Myron was stalking me throughout this entire dream. I was sneaking around from room to room finding different places to hide. At one point I found an orange blanket to hide under which made me think of recent chakra work I have been doing, the second chakra.


Eventually he found me and forced me onto the bed and made me have sex with him. The room was dark and the bedding was very dark maroon, this also felt like chakra colours, representing the base chakra.

I went along with it, because in this dream Myron was very angry his face was all contorted he felt ugly and evil, so I did not resist. But the entire time I had a sick feeling. I was revolted. Even his body looked hideous. There was no fear in this dream, unlike previous dreams of this sort, but a lot of mixed feelings, disgust, repulsion, shame etc.

I somehow managed to get up and get away and found my way into another room, which was still dark, but a bit less so. This room had a blue-ish tint to it and felt a lot more calming. I felt I was going to be okay in this room. If only Myron didn't find me.

I stayed in there for a while, but eventually realized I should go shower so made my way to the bathroom. I got in the shower, which had a bright yellow shower curtain. Again I thought of chakra colours, this representing the Power chakra. I was already naked, so didn't need to remove my clothing.

Myron came in while I was showering and suddenly i had an overwhelming urge to kill him. He tired to get into the shower with me and then I noticed I was holding a crystal knife. I wasn't angry or scared at all; just felt there was something I needed to do.

So as he was getting into the shower I began slashing at him with my crystal knife. I could feel so intensely each time the knife cut him, it was like poking into a piece of meat. But somehow I knew I needed to do this. He began to bleed and slowly I could see the life draining out of him as the blood was also dripping.

Eventually the more I slashed and sliced, Myron became smaller and deflated. Until he was finally just a slumped over lump on the bathroom floor.

I got out of the shower after washing myself under the warm water and walked around the house.

I went to the first floor where a few people from the WS were gathered and told them I had to go to the basement.

Once I got down to the basement I noticed it looked like my Gramma's basement, but with purple curtains on the windows. I thought of the crown chakra.

In this part of the dream I was searching for a child, it seemed the child belonged to someone else and I had adopted him as my own. I was searching the rooms for him and each time I thought I was in the last room, there seemed to be just one more and then another. It was not as dark as usual down there, so made the searching much easier.

Eventually I found the little boy I had been searching for. He was hiding pretty much in plain sight but seemed to be trapped inside of a mesh tent like housing. I got him out hugged him, set him at the kitchen table and gave him some food.

I then realized I still wasn't fully dressed. I put my pants on and then doing up my zipper; found I had a key on me. This was a very important key. I had been hiding it in my womb, for a long time, but it was now free from hiding and for me to use.


After this dream I try to remember always that I was given this key as a gift. And I try to remember to use it as often as I can. With awareness comes knowledge and with that, true inner strength.

~



While many of these Nightmares do seem excessively violent, and they are, they did for me, what I couldn’t do in real life at the time I was with Myron. Taking him out, slashing at him and cutting him up is about destroying the bits of energy and power he still had over me. So finding the crystal knife, and killing him was exactly what needed to be done. Not only was Myron a ghost inside my head, even after all these years, but his memory itself was a real living thought form, capable, because I was letting it, of inflicting much damage even still. Because that thought form was still holding me hostage, still had power over me and still was consuming my energy it needed to be totally eliminated.

The womb and the key signifying my power; the power of life or death is sacred. Being able to slay Myron, finally after all this time enables something new to take its place. This time eliminating my fear and setting my soul free. Myself becoming liberated from the things that once had haunted me. And from darkness now I move toward the light.