Dreamed 1996/9/23 by Chris Wayan
Last week I learned my parents lied to me about something that scarred me as a kid, that I've asked about for years. It hit me hard. I'm a freshman, but I won't go to classes, just lie in bed all day depressed.
My dorm-mates shrug it off. "Well, she's an artist. They're eccentric..."
I do go out, some. There's a bizarre performance artist called Girl who I go to see over and over. In fact I gradually become obsessed with her. Because I want to out-bizarre her!
So I get a huge, woody, inedible zucchini from the dorm garden, and masturbate on top of my bed with it, with my bedroom door open so they all can see. It's so big it doesn't even feel good, I feel sore afterwards. But I do it anyway, then sleep atop the covers, curled up around my overgrown squash like a lover.
I do this for days, and start calling myself Zucchini Girl.
Go to the cafe on Open Mike night, and announce "I'm Zucchini Girl. Rather than read, I'm doing a performance piece." I strip on stage, spread my legs wide, and shove my zucchini in and out of my cunt. Don't feel sexy and don't pretend to--just out to shock.
At last, I say "Thank you." And sit down naked and sweaty in the front row, cradling my slippery zucchini like a salamander baby.
And no one, not my classmates, not my friends, not the cafe people, not my teachers, NO one sees even this as a stress reaction and a yell for help.
What exactly DO I have to do? Give birth to a watermelon, like Grandma always warned?
Just before bed I saw a TV movie on date rape. The victim acted strange right away, but her friends just asked casually, once, and when she denied anything was wrong, they left her alone. I was amazed and angry--it was quite obvious she was lying and very upset. I'd have persisted. Some friends!
And me? I still can't go ON a date without getting sick. Trust level, zero.
A week ago, my parents admitted a bizarre fact about my early childhood. Not rape, not molestation, but... bizarre. I've known for years something happened, but they'd denied it--until now. I'm still in shock. I HAVE been lying in bed depressed, masturbating and retreating into fantasy a lot. Short-term, that seems to be all I can do.
But how do I cope with it longer-term? How do you make your present true, when you learn your past is a lie?
The dream suggests I'm still understandably in shock--and that my parents really, truly don't get it. And likely never will.
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