Dream About Family Gathering And Intervention

January 15-16th ⁃ I Was migrating with my stuff ⁃ My grandmother having a family gathering ⁃ It ended up being an intervention of sorts ⁃ My former stepfather was there (Garykayi) and I was asking him stuff ⁃ And i asked him about my stuff ⁃ He brought up my suicide attempts as a jab at me. ⁃ I was furious at him bringing that shit to the family, punching him in the arm ⁃ My grandmother and incubator were both there ⁃ “I didn’t want to tell you, because no one here cares about their mental health! Why would you care for mine?” ⁃ After forcing me to explain the circumstances (and I replied with vague answers) I knew it was time to leave. ⁃ I went to go grab my stuff but only bits and pieces were laying around ⁃ I found the dog…pit Bull. He was asleep when I found him, and flinched awake when he smelled me. But he was instantly relaxed and very happy to see me. He was happy with me giving belly rubs and headpats and rubs. He had so many scars around his eyes…his eyes bulged out wild because of the treatment he’d gone through. ⁃ I didn’t want to leave him behind, but I knew if I did my leave my treatment would get worse here. Or worse, the poor dog would die because family sent him away to get killed indirectly. If I attempted to take him with me. Neither result was desirable. ⁃ Went back to the living room. I asked where my stuff was, and no one gave me a straight answer. Folks grinning at my fury like it was funny. ⁃ I walked out to find a way to my Aunt Mary’s. Surely my stuff would be there right? ⁃ There was my grandma house yard. But with trees and fruit growing on the trunks. (Before it was desolate.) ⁃ I went and walked up the stairs to sidewalk. Finding an old comic book abandoned on the stairs. Joker was on the cover…and a couple of dark clad hero’s? Joker in the pose of a puppeteer. I stepped over it and started walking. ⁃ Someone stopped me and told me to go back. I told her I couldn’t and won’t. She seemed to give me some advice while walking with me. Then disappeared. ⁃ Disney festival seemed to be going on. Familiar town square. Finished performing. (I remembered going the opposite direction from my grandma’s house and ended up with dead ends, so I went towards the square instead.) ⁃ Because I was furious and showing it, my walking speed was faster and folks seemed to want to help me. ⁃ I was soon stopped by someone (parent?) Because I had dropped the plushies I was carrying. Not recognizing I had. ⁃ Thanked them before going further to seek a way to my Aunt Mary’s. Or a way out. An exit. Something along the way. But I was stopped because strings were attached to me were pulled taut by corners. ⁃ I then was freed with the help and kindness of others. ⁃ That’s how I discovered in the donations box, there was the blanket I was sleeping with to keep warm. ⁃ I knew my family right then had donated and given away my stuff without my consent and knowledge. Stuff I had rebuilt my life with. Stuff that was given to me to support me through transition. ⁃ Grabbed the blanket and contacted my incubator who happened to be following me. ⁃ “You get one answer. ONE. Where the FUCK is my shit?” ⁃ She gave me a flyer as a response. “Abuse.” Something else… and “total shame.” ⁃ I really hated that. So I threw and broke a nearby beer bottle by throwing it at the wall behind her. Not caring if I was hurt by it. ⁃ Walked back through the square, knowing my stuff was lost for good. Or to spread out for all to be found in time. Which hurt so much as so much of it was precious to me due to sentimental value, gifts and mementos I’ve held onto from friends and folks who supported me. I woke up after that, felt the need to scream in anguish. I wasn’t sleeping well. So dreams were foggy at best; and on and off. Couldn’t stay asleep. I don’t want to fall back asleep.