Friday, 11 March 2011

Nightmares, Real And Imagined

Last night I had an interesting dream which was part nightmare, part therapy. It featured my former housemate, with me being at his place again for some reason (staying the night there with my mother or so, though I never saw her in the dream). The place had been completely remodelled, supposedly thanks to his new dominating girl friend, with most parts of the house an unfinished mess, with the rest looking like they came straight off a flyer of some shop. Extensions had been added to the house, but they were unfinished too, and looked like a cave system.

Moments after waking up I realized that this dream was a kind of mixture between experiences with this housemate and my father. The first weeks after I came here at my mom's place I told her everything about what had happened between me and this housemate, and we were both almost shocked at how eerily similar it was to my mom's experience with my father and his new wife. The same sense of betrayal, the bullying to get one chased away. The differences are truly superficial.

It wasn't so weird, then, that the housemate I saw in my dream was a bit of a cross with my father. He had balded a lot more, with very short, grey hair, and was wearing glasses, similar to the type my father wore last times I saw him. This scene started off with him making all kinds of demands and basically complaining a lot about me. When he sat down at the table in the living room I then started my own tirade, telling him that he should look at his own life first, that I was going to be rich and famous, while he would remain a nobody.

In a sense I guess my former housemate and father are very similar to me. They both rejected me, and both caused me a lot of emotional pain. Neither of them I ever wish to see again. When my father called me last month after hearing about my suicide attempt he truly didn't seem to understand the situation. He even kept using my old first name, which really is hurtful. It was kind of fun to draw the parallels between what had happened to me and what he and his wife have done to my mother, though. I doubt he picked up on it, though. Like so many males, both my father and former housemate are the emotionally immature types, which is the primary reason why they get wrapped so easily around the finger of those evil, manipulating women.

Anyway, my tirade in this dream felt like a kind of therapy. Lashing out like that is something I have wanted to do for so long, rather than be a victim. The latter is what I have been made into by this whole society, with me being completely helpless when it came to the medical and healthcare system. At no point have they shown interested in acting out their profession, or shown any evidence of being human.

When I was talking about my experiences with a friend a few days ago he agreed wholeheartedly that it would probably be a required part of my PTSD treatment to leave this country, as in essence this entire country has been and still is a battlefield where I have spent so many years. Looking around all I can see are the mutilated corpses of my dreams, innocence and trust in others. I can move around within this country of death, but only by leaving it can I truly escape its horrors.

It may sound dramatic, but looking back I honestly can't tell that this country has given me anything worth staying for. I do not think that I could be happy if I stayed in this country. There's also the realization that I do not have any friends in this country and am unlikely to make any considering how those who aren't rude and selfish have still so been affected by this society that they can't do much about it either.

I wish more people would face the truth that the Netherlands is a dying country.Economically, financially, socially and culturally we have sold out or are in the process of doing so. Its society is so devoid of emotion and humanity that it can be called 'emotionally handicapped', as coined by the Dutch stand-up comedian group Purper years ago. As a Belgian writer pointed out earlier this week, the Netherland is also a master of conformity, with society as a whole enforcing this choking blanket of conformity which destroys any chance at debate or progressive change.

The Netherlands is a country without hope, without dreams. As long as I still have mine I do not think it wise for me to stay here any longer than necessary. Now to see which other country wants me the most :)


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