I had a strange dream. Through out the whole dream I have a bottle of beer in my hand. First going round and round in the back of a car. I hear a young boy say "I love you." We stop and I get out and walk over. An older man says, "He really does love you." Next I am at a restroom. I push the door open, and look inside. There are men in there. I look down at myself, I can't go in there looking like this.(Very feminine.) I back away and close the door. Next I am looking around a corner, there are some people waiting to go back to work. I still have the bottle of beer in my hand. I can't be seen with a bottle of beer, I dig a hole and bury the bottle of beer. I then rejoin my friends. The dream ends.
As a child I once said to my dad, "I love you." His response was, "You don't know how to love. You don't deserve to be loved." This is causing me to have great thoughts. He said it, not the exact words, but in a round about way."I don't believe you are my child." My mother once told me, in statement my dad did not say to her, our child, but instead said your child. Ancestry DNA has told me that my cousins are my cousins, proving he is my biological father. On the other hand, my dad's so called precious daughter may actually be the daughter of his business partner.(the partner who sexually abused me.)
The restroom: The idea of not being manly enough. To actually have a beard as a flag to say I am a male, I belong in here. Then comes a point that a female on testosterone can grow a better beard than me. When the janitor in the men's restroom tells me I should use the unisex restroom, I wonder, did he think I am a female on testosterone.
The beer bottle: I guess it could be said that the constant bottle in hand could be the self pity. My dad rarely was without a beer in his hand. like the drinking songs, a tear in my beer. I don't know how many times my dad said he wasn't loved because they wanted a girl. Because of his self pity he could not see the love. (whether the love was from his parents or his own child.)
Bury the bottle: I don't need the alcohol or other drugs as a crutch to deaden the pain of self pity. But was it something else, continuing abuse not allowing me to live my own life, fear of what she would do if I did not drive her to her boyfriends house. If I did not obey her.
Michelle