STALKED! By Voices Chapter 7


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Fear

Chapter 7

In addition to the invisible woman who haunted my second and third grade classes and the shadow creature who haunted our house, there were the dreams.  The dreams were always about the same things – sex and terror – and they were BAD!

One dream revolved around the girls’ restroom at school.  Whenever, I needed to use the facilities, they were somehow broken.  And adding to that, it was somehow always my fault that they were broken.

In another version of the dream, the restroom was occupied with girls chatting away in a friendly manner, until I entered.  Then the chatter ceased.  The quiet as I walked in was utterly intimidating.  My heart rate increased and I felt like a trapped animals as the girls turned in my direction and watched as I tried finding an empty stall.  Most of the time, the only empty ones left were stuffed full of toilet tissue and unusable.

What stood out most about these dreams was that the same two teenage girls and an older woman, who they said was their mother, were always in the dreams.

In the dreams, these girls and their mother mocked me, threatened me, and usually ended up groping me.

There were many variations of this restroom dream.  In another of them, after they’d teased me for a while, one of them would grab my arm and drag me out of the stall and make me look at the water overflowing from the toilet that I’d just finished using.

Then she’d drag me along the path of the water to where it drained outside.  The entire time she was shaking me violently and screaming at the top of her lungs. 

“Sis, you filthy girl” You peed so much you caused the toilets to overflow.  You filthy thing!  You can’t use the school’s toilets anymore. You’re going to have to pee outside, the way you do at home!”

By the middle of the night, I felt so guilty and ashamed, not to mention, emotionally traumatized, that I was too scared to get out of bed and use the slop-jar to pee.  So of course, I ended up wetting the bed mot every night.

To hide my bed wetting, I took to making my own bed.  My mother, it goes without saying, was quite angry when she found the dried pee stains on my sheets.

After the first few whippings, I got smarter.  Mondays were washday at our house.  But on Saturdays, my mother and father went shopping together in Bay Minette (more later on why she couldn’t go alone).  I used that day to wash the pee stains out of my sheets and re-made my bed before they returned.

These dreams lasted all through grade school.  However, they took on a different twist after my family moved to Chicago and I hit puberty.

As a humorous side note, whenever people talked about wet dreams, I thought this was what they meant.

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