Gay Fresno - Life
The Dream of Hate
It was hot. It was probably the hottest day of the year. It wasn’t eighty degrees. It was ninety degrees. The sweat in the air seemed to make it even worse. This was the type of day that made you want to watch television. This type of day made you want to go swimming with friends. It was the kind of day in which you could only think about the night and how beautiful it was going to be outside. I wish I would have had a ping pong table in the basement or a pool in the back yard. A bunch of friends is want I wanted. I wanted so many things but it was difficult because there were other obstacles. So many obstacles.
My mother was out in the living room snoring and I was tired of Facebook arguments and games. I was tired of being online and I had been up late already the night before. I didn’t want to get my mom upset at me by waking her up and plus she had the TV blaring. If I had changed the channel she would have woken up. So instead of waking the beast of burden I stayed in my room with nothing to do.
I had already read three books on schizophrenia. The comedy book was read while I was up north alone with not a worry in the world. I wish I was there again. I wish I had another text book that could tell me how to write better and I wish the TV hadn’t been blaring so I could have focused on reading it. However, these were not the circumstances I was given this day. Days like this I knew were dangerous. I knew they were dangerous because they lead me to solitude in my bedroom.
Solitude and introversion with a mix of self hate all stemmed from my social circumstances are ingredients for the events that lied ahead of me.
I walked into my room and sat in front of the computer. I exited out of Facebook and typed in my favorite pornography site. I got disgusted when I saw what I would normally be aroused by. Wow, I thought to myself. You’re a real winner jake. Look, you even forgot to shut the damn door. Your mom could get up any moment and find you looking at porn. Not only porn, but gay porn at that. I shut the door and exited the site. Ugh. What to do? What to do? What to do?
I got up from the computer and looked at my dog. She is a Collie. Smooth short haired collie with the tri color that every dog trainer would dream of having. Now as a retired dog she just laid there panting. Stupid dog, I thought to myself as I flopped down into the side of my bed.
My room had some odd color arrangements as the bed was set up with a dark green comforter and sheets. The walls and ceiling on the other hand were dark red. In fact the paint was called fox red. Not fire red like every thinks when I describe my room to them. Fox red was a dark red. A masculine red. My room seemed to be like a prison with such dark colors, but I call it my happy place. But, I couldn’t even have that as the noise would penetrate easily through the walls when any noise was made outside my room. The bathroom was especially annoying because my mom would wake up at four in the morning on school days to blow dry her hair. I was also awoken when this occurred.
The heat was still miserable and I crawled up on my bed more. I fell asleep with no covers after I threw my clothes off. I wanted to go completely nude but I didn’t want mom to walk into my room which had no lock on it. There was no privacy in this house so the best thing for me to do right now was sleep. I was tired from attempting to stay awake twenty-four hours the previous night. So that is what I did from three to eight in the evening. I slept.
“What the hell is wrong with him? He is so god damn lazy and he doesn’t do a damn thing around this house. And he is a fucking fagot. Fagots are disgusting.” I was upstairs in my house up north all of a sudden when I heard my brother down stairs saying this. I felt my real body squirm and heard myself mumble, but my dream body was alert and ready to fight against whatever my brother had in mind for me.
The color of the floor here did not matter as it was green and the walls and ceiling were light blue. The decorations at my old home did not matter because now I knew something was going to happen. I was listening through the heat vent in my floor and deciding my escape plan.
“Yah I know and it is time he learns his lesson. He has gone to long like this.” My mom said agreeing with my brother.
“Where is he at?”, my brother inquired anxiously anticipating his attack.
I jumped out my window and was on the back roof. It was a warm fall day and the wind was blowing. The subconscious belief of the wind relieved my real body of its twitching. My unconscious imagination continued to play out as I jumped off my roof onto the trampoline that we had been having fun on a week before. I came flying up and jumped off the trampoline. I ran into the long dry swamp grass. I hid behind the septic mound. Cautiously listening I heard my brother’s black lab Ben and the now somehow alive dog in my imagination Bandit coming after me.
“There he is.” My dream body shot out and I came to consciousness hearing my brother in my real life saying friendly to Ben the real black lab, “Where’s Jacob? Go get him Ben. Go get him. Alright Ben lets go for a ride.”
It was a nightmare and I felt like I should really just die and go to hell. The worse part of this was I was now awake. I was in distress replaying the parts of my dream. I analyzed it a bit. I was paranoid and frightened at what it was trying to tell me. I did not feel well at all. I really truly wanted to die and tears welled up into my eyes. These dreams have never been so traumatic and real to me before. I honestly would like to curl up and die I thought to myself holding back my tears and my need to scream and bawl. I internalized the pain and the hate for myself.
That is when I reached out for the wrong solution. The right solution maybe. The wrong solution. Do it do not. To be or not to be. What do I do? Just breathe jake it will pass. No, you’re a useless fagot you deserve to be dead. You are going to molest children. You’re a pervert. You’re a looser. You can’t control yourself. You’re out of control. You’re crazy and schizophrenic. You talk to yourself. You need to die. It is the only solution.
I went into my bathroom and looked into the mirror. I saw this ugly villain with black under his eyes. I saw tears. I saw a disgusting menace. My hair was all over the place and my mind was the same. I cautiously opened the mirror and I looked at the Tylenol. I saw the one bottle amongst the many things that I could use to end my misery. I poured several pills into my hand and I thought to myself.
“You’re just like your father. You’re going to kill yourself because no one loves you or wants you.”
I put the pills back and dumped the water and said silently to myself. “It’s just a bad thought.”
“Jacob.” My mom said from the room.
“Yah.” I somehow managed to say.
“Are you alright?”
Again I pull together and say quickly responding happily, “Yah, I am just using the bathroom.”