Dream 318

'Cheating Husbands & Abused Sons'

Dream date: 25 November 2014

I was in my bedroom at my nan's house in Sheringham. with CCK, but instead of her being a guest in my house, I was her guest. Things were fine and we were getting on as normal. She was telling me that her husband, K (a religious man) had been cheating on her with another woman and she was desperate to find out who this woman was so she could take out her revenge. I was trying to persuade her to not act too rashly and to speak with her husband, but she was intent on harming the other woman. When it was bedtime, we both went to sleep in my bed next to each other. I was eating a chocolate biscuit while I lay in the bed, and the crumbs were falling out my mouth onto the pillow. CCK took some of the fallen crumbs and tasted them, She then became enraged and said: 'You're the woman having an affair with my husband!' This wasn't true, and I tried to persuade her otherwise, but she rose from the bed and started attacking me. She was far stronger than me and I could not fight back. She punched me in the face many times and then picked up two biro pens, both of which she pushed into my eyes, at the inner corners (a pain I felt in my sleep). I was begging with her to stop. I then saw my hair straighteners (210 degrees in heat when on) plugged in and became aware that if she noticed this, she would use them as a weapon against me. I managed to get up, with her still beating me, and ran into another room, which was no longer a room in my nan's house, but rather a laundry room in CCK's home (in the dream - I have never been to her current home or met her husband in real life). There, I found my bag, which was a black shopping-style bag, filled with clothes. My makeup was on the side, and I was trying to put my makeup into the bag so that I could leave. CCK ran in and started pulling on my arms to prevent me from putting the makeup in my bag, and hitting me at the same time. I saw a load of silvery, glittery eyeshadow pans fall loose from a palette into the top of the bag. Satisfied that my possessions were in the bag, I ran outside. It was daylight and I was on a balcony/walkway of a high rise towerblock. CCK came out after me, and I realised that she was going to throw both my bag and then me over the walkway barrier - which would lead to my death. She was swinging me around by my arm which was holding the bag. I managed to break free and run back into the building, this time, into a communal hallway, where there were three young, mixed-race people (two males, one female) leaning against the wall, smoking. The girl, knowing I was being chased and attacked, pointed me towards the lift and told me to use that to escape the building. I got into the lift, wondering if CCK could make it down to the ground floor using the stairs by the time I used the lift to descend 10 floors. However, by the time I reached the ground floor and left the building, I was by myself, with no sign of CCK. I left safely.

I then found myself in the pub in Sheringham, which my mum used to run. Someone (I am not sure who) told me that my 8 year old son 'Aaron Normalmorman' had been in a sexual relationship with CCK. This was 'consensual' in that she had not used force against him, but there was no real consent due to his extremely young age, so I recognised it (as everyone would) as statutory rape. I became furious and decided to go back to CCK and confront her. I found myself back in my bedroom at my nan's house with CCK. I told her that I had not had an affair with her husband, but in any event, it didn't matter, because she had done the evil act of abusing my young son. CCK started pleading with me and telling me she was sorry, but I just left.

I was then drafting a letter to the police - although I am not sure why I was writing to them rather than reporting the matter in person. On the envelope, which was addressed in the normal way, I also wrote 'Aaron Normalmormon' and then heard a voice say: 'You better write on the sides of the envelope so the paparazzi don't intercept it!' I wrote lengthways down either side of the address, although I am not sure what I wrote, but it was in black biro.

I was then standing outside (daylight), beside the entrance to a house. I was with my son, 'Aaron Normalmorman'. He was small, with thick blonde hair and freckles. I was bending down, hugging him and telling him that everything would be OK, when we were approached by a middle-aged woman. Before I could ask her what she wanted, she said to my son: 'Are you Aaron Normalmormon?' He said yes, and she pulled out a camera and started snapping pictures of him. She was a member of the paparazzi.