Cleaved in Spirit

Dawn finally came and went and apparently Mary with it; I realized as I awoke and she was gone. I peered out from beneath the curtain at the children playing in the yard beyond the house and there she was pulling up water from the well. I sank back down onto my mat wondering what kind of night she had, since mine wasn't particularly productive in the realm of restful bliss. I kept waking up to the same strange, stupid dream I'd had many... centuries...ago?

Ehhh... This dream I'd thought... (hoped )...I'd forgotten until this morning.

It all started with a twelve step group I'd attended... centuries later; in the past of the future as I sit in history past or present? If that makes... whatever sense? But any ways. Survivors of Incest Anonymous, I whispered a'loud as my brain even had trouble choking out the words.

I'd listen to the women in these meetings, especially certain ones who were married, been married a long time and whose husbands were very supportive of them. They'd talk of how much their spouses loved them; regardless of the struggles of having been abused and the ladies sometimes being turned off to their husbands. They, none the less loved their men very much and I was always amazed when they'd speak of how understanding their husbands were. That was the time I started to wonder: Well, maybe being married and having that kind of husband wouldn't be so bad after all.

There were other women in the meetings too, who had 'different life styles'; some were gay and some just had boyfriends, or live-ins. The women who had good committed relationships (they were more often than not - married) would talk about how their intimate lives with their husbands were nurturing loving experiences for them. They would admit they had their problems, but as a whole, most were happily married.

"Of course he loves me". I remember one wife fondly recollecting. "He's the father of my children and he loves his kids; goes to all their games and school events. He's a good dad." Decades would pass before I'd personally realize how important that was.

The women who didn't have committed relationships seemed to only see sex as something that 'felt good'; (no relational depth). Of course it doesn't take a rocket scientist to see that there can't be relational depth without commitment.

Any how; until that point in my life (I think I was 18 years old) the only sexual experience I'd ever had, was being molested. All my experiences were negative and some people's were positive and that's what was intriguing to me.

Before and after meetings, I would usually take a walk. The cemetery my maternal grandmother was buried in sat right next to the building where my meetings were held. I always sensed there was some ironic symbolism there; since the same incestuous scenario had been played out in her home too. My mother was abused by her own brother and my grandmother - like my mother, never handled the disclosure very well.

'The iniquities of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation...' Well, I was the third link in this chain that I was aware of and the determining factor that I wasn't going to pass this same mess on to my children, sat in the building across the yard. How many of us are willing to face these issues and get help if only for ourselves, regardless of whether or not we ever produce offspring? Either way, my future generations were the furthest thing from my mind at that point. I was the one that needed the help - not them and that's why I kept coming back week after week.

As I'd walk, I would listen to what was (to me at least), a grand new discovery; gospel music, or rather more accurately - contemporary Christian music. I liked the songs because they talked about a man who never sinned and for me that was important, since I felt I could trust someone who I knew wouldn't hurt me.

Shortly after that; I had this dream.

I dreamt I was... well (not sure there's a 'polite' way of saying this)? Errr... cuddled up oh so close to this man who cared deeply for me; affectionally doing things that felt like no experience I'd ever had before. I just clung to him and squealed eagerly. He could do what he pleased and I was pleased to let him, because I knew he was committed to the protection of my being. I'd been swept up and carried into this place where I could earnestly relinquish all I didn't even know I possessed to total surrender; because for once in my life I knew I was completely safe!

The boisterous howling elation that erupted from the depths of somewheres beyond us, was enthralling. We sang a song that filled our insides; beyond the capacity - of what ever this glory was we'd tapped into. God, you give us wonders beyond our ability to articulate. We both wailed until this boundless mighty surging flood left us utterly silent.

Thank You! We gazed of one mind into each other's wide eyes; for we were now cleaved of one... Spirit.

What was going on inside of me? I almost felt as if I was bursting with life. Something new springing up from the depths of a part of me I'd long thought was dead. How is it y.. ya...You bring this body back to life? A tiny whisper ascended, flittering through the still air to the ear of God Almighty who seemed to be... listening?

I could feel the stillness of his breathing and the warmth of the life that surged through him with every heart beat that rang in my ears. Our souls merged into single breath and beat as we sighed contentedly and sleepily drifted off into some other dream world.

Later on, I'd woke into passing back through this dream toward consciousness. I started to become a little alarmed; for I noticed I was laying on this man's chest. He was wearing a nice soft white nightgown and I too wrapped in the same type of garment. Oh Yeah, I remember you. I thought to myself as I happily hugged him. We were here before I fell asleep. All these warm feeling from the previous encounter started to flood back.

By this time, I was starting to wake up for real and I remember thinking: What's going on here? I've never had this kind of experience before. This has got to be a dream. I wonder who this is? I picked my head up to look at his face. It was Jesus. I remember thinking: something isn't right here and feeling kind of uneasy. I put my head back down though and went back to sleep.

I didn't remember this dream until a few days later and I don't even recall what triggered the memory; but as soon as it came back to me, I felt absolutely horrible. I was so sorry, I started crying. I thought I had done something terribly wrong, like I had some how given Jesus a disease. I was very afraid and profoundly ashamed of myself.

It was probably weeks before I had gotten up enough courage to tell one of the ladies in the incest survivor meetings about this dream. Her only reply was - Oh don't worry about it. It's OK...That's the way things are suppose to be. It's wonderful etc. She suggested something like, I get a boyfriend and try it out. I wasn't about to do that, but I was wondering if sex could possibly be a non-painful experience. I finally got up enough courage to see for myself.

The idea of experimenting on another person was too frightening and just absolutely unappealing; (besides, even at that point having a pretty clear understanding that if I'd actually done that - God would not be happy with me and I certainly didn't want to make Him indigent). So I decided I'd try it on myself. I knew if I didn't like this, I could stop and I knew that probably wouldn't be the case if another person was involved.

It took a couple of weeks of... planning, (err) as I was so nervous about the whole thing and wasn't really sure which direction I should go; explore this idea or just pretend it wasn't important? I knew this was plaguing me too much to ignore; but I had no idea how to resolve it? I still don't.

I remember praying: God, I know You want me to get better, but I don't know what I'm doing and I have no clue how I'm actually going to overcome this dread. I sensed though, that God didn't want me to stay stuck where I was, so I had to do... something.

I was walking through the mall one afternoon, when I saw this beautiful pink prairie style nightgown in... Yeah... Victoria's Secret. It was so cute and I remember being incredibly nervous just walking into the store to look at the price. There was a rack of these night gowns in various colors, but I had taken a liking to the pink one. It was a bit more than I could afford, so I decided on Kmart to see if they had similar pajamas. When I saw they did; I decided to save myself some money and made my purchase there.

So with new pretty night gown in hand, several more meetings and hours of attempting to journal away my fears; I concluded that I was as ready as I'd ever be. So - this was it.

I waited for an afternoon when no one was home. I picked the daytime because the dark hid too many scary memories. I took a shower, dawned my fresh new clean cuddly nightgown, went upstairs and crawled into bed. I remember praying: OK God, now what do I do? The little wheels in my head began to turn and since I noted that I liked hugs: Start with giving yourself a hug and... you'll figure out the rest from there.

Well, about 20 minutes later... Yeah, I figured the rest out.

I remember being pleasantly surprised and a bit confused at the same time? Well, just like my dream; at least that didn't hurt. And I snuck over to my sister's desk and swiped her hand held mirror. I turned the light on, laid down again and... inspected my own anatomy.

Oddly as it seemed to me at the time, what I was looking at was... pink. I don't know why I'd assumed differently, but I was expecting to see rotting flesh. No, I marveled. It's alive! I poked around a bit trying to figure out what was what. It took page or two of searching through my college biology book before I realized that little flowery looking thing was the entrance to my bladder.

So that was that; the commencement of my... introduction to something other than the pain of sexual abuse. In the beginning, I suppose I was well enough pleased with my discovery; albite still incredibly confused by all of it. Ever since though; my self experiments seem to have turned into a cage I couldn't (and still can't) get out of.

After that, I went into the military. There was a war on and I was confronted with a serious dilemma; the possibility of my own death. Of course with death I was facing yet another pressing problem; hell? I kept going to church regardless of how bad I felt most of the time. I tried every suggestion anyone had to get right with God. I learned a lot of Bible while I was in the army, but the more I learned about the Law, the more condemned I felt.

When I finally came to the realization that Jesus was God, I felt sick to my stomach. I apologized to Him (Jesus in particular) for what I'd done and tried very hard to forget this dream. I attempted to write it down as a sort of catharsis, but somehow just kept reinforcing to myself - your not suppose to have good feelings about sex. It will always be a bad experience for you, so just accept it. It's time to stop this disgusting "experimentation" of yours and get on with life.

The whole dream and the life I've continued to live; has caused me a lot of pain, frustration, resentment, self hatred and jealousy. I feel hopelessly trapped. I know I haven't committed the unforgivable sin, forgiveness is possible: I just don't feel like I have it though. I keep wondering; God, what's wrong with me? How come I can't seem to get it right? Why can't I just let it go?

I sat quietly for the longest time and tried not to think of anything. I knew I was now on overload and mentally and physically couldn't take any more. I know myself to get this way far more than just occasionally. I'm tired! I said as I laid down and tried to remember some song that might make me feel better.

I turned my radio on and suddenly remembered (in my attempts to find a station); that there weren't any to be had. Strait from Caesar's Palace: sort of like Radio Moscow, it's Radio Rome! I finally laughed in an attempt to break up some of the monotony of my depression.