All night my dreams were full of privacy-invasions: I break into a family's house, my sister snoops in my dream-journals and defaces my bookcase...

When I wake, I see a pattern and, still half-asleep, write some strange notes:

The last dream said I must go face someone in a cabin near Lake Tahoe in the dead of winter... That cabin was the site of my first blatantly psychic dream, The Murders--a nightmare of bloody images from another mind, the mind of a nearby ax-murderer as he killed several people. I woke to find my whole family had dreamed of the killer! Then the newspaper came, screaming murder... it was all real. Not symbolic, not psychological. Real. Telepathy runs in families.

I've taken for granted my history of being telepathically invaded--since I've never known anything else, I forget how powerful and traumatic psychic dreams are. As invasive as being raped. Now maybe I did give some kind of unconscious consent to share the feelings of a murderer--but I think I just was genetically predisposed to pick up thoughts, a psychic radio--after all, my whole family did. Even assuming my soul consented, it was as traumatic as a painful, premature sexual initiation. And a lot grimmer.

Returning to that cabin means revisiting the trauma of that psychic awakening, that loss of virginity--and the empowerment, too.

Damn it! My dreams were analyzing my dreams again!

I sigh, and copy it all out once more... for you, this time.

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