Trinity Dejavu

I’ve been toying with the idea of writing my dreams down for years, just another one of those things that come bedtime I’ve forgotten about, no biggie, I don’t remember my dreams anyway, never have.

Now my dreams stick with me for days and I can’t shake them. Fears, uncertainty and memories mingle exposing the fragility of things taken for granted. Hopes and desires papering the cracks fall away like tissue paper leaving me hollow. More often than not I wake wet with tears and if I don’t, the memories dragged back into focus reach into my heart and pull with such force that I can’t stop.

The following are just summaries, all I can bare to commit into writing.

The first dream I’ve left the US and I’m unable to go back, something happens to miya in my absence and I can’t comeback to say goodbye. When I finally do many months later I visit her parents home and see her ashes in a tin on the side. Sarah isn’t here either, I need her and don’t know where she is. My heart is broken, ripped from my body smashed into a despair so intense that I take miya upstairs, open the tin and cut my wrists over her cremated remains. I give her my life in the hope she will live again and we will be together forever.

In the second I’m out shopping with Zoe (my daughter, 7), we’re inside a sprawling makeshift building with many rooms and staircases in every direction each with people selling everything you can imagine, things layed out on tables and colorful blankets. It feels like a carboot sale or market. Zoe is excited and difficult to control, I have to keep chasing her from place to place, telling her not to touch, telling her there are things she can’t have or doesn’t have the money for. My exwife is here but she doesn’t look well, here face is tired and looks thin. She needs to find something but I’m distracted with Zoe and can’t help her.

I wake, it’s very early and I lay in bed crying and trying to clear my head. Sarah and miya are here with me asleep. I know I should wake them but I wont. The sounds of them sleeping are soothing and bring a smile to my face, Let them sleep, just for a little longer.

I’m ok, just dreams, I still don’t remember them most days, I think that’s for the best.

Tonight in SL is the one year memorial service for Kelise Hailey, she was a young transsexual woman who’s struggle became to much for her to bare. She committed suicide. She was my friend.

I owe my own life to Kelise. When she left us I was in a very dark place, torn between this world and something else. Losing her fixed my resolve to stay for good. No matter how low and depressed I feel, no matter what happens in my life. I made her a silent promise and I will keep it. I keep a candle lit for her in SL to remind me that no matter what happens, no matter how dark the days might seem for me or anyone else. You’re never truly alone.

When I’m quiet and alone my thoughts often drift to her, a year on and I still can’t hold back the tears. I miss you Kelise.

Traditional suicide can fail in about as many ways as you can dream to attempt it. The mounting risks associated with failure combined with modern medical advances make this once simple task a daunting undertaking.

It’s with months of dedicated research and many fine volunteers we are proud to announce chewiecide!

chew·ie·cide (chū‘ĭ-sīd‘)
n.

1. The act or an instance of intentionally harassing a wookie as a means to killing oneself.
2. One who commits chewiecide.

There are several recommended ways to accomplish Chewiecide. The following “chewiecide manoeuvres” have been carefully tested to ensure a maximum success rate.

Note : Failure to successfully execute a “chewiecide manoeuvre” will in most cases end in the same result.

Accidental Stomp : A good beginner move for the faint of heart. Walking along side your Wookie of choice, accidentally step on his toes. The Wookie will be suitably enraged and through careful apology you should be able to calm him down. Once you appear to have been forgiven and the Wookie looks away stamp on his foot as hard as you can and laugh. You should be ripped limb from limb momentarily.

Genital Juggle : This manoeuvre requires a certain level of nerve, but having your head pounded into your chest awaits a successful execution! Engage the Wookie in conversation and while talking keep glancing down to his crotch. After a couple of moments, crouch down and poke the Wookies crotch fur with a suitable implement (fingers are good), look up and ask “Are you a boy or a girl?”

Delayed Retaliation : The ultimate maneuver for those of you who just love to show off (some preparation time required). The first step is to find and befriend the hairiest Wookie in existence, this is an exceptionally risky problem in its own right, be carefull not to become a victim of premature execution. Once the Wookie is semi-trusting, consume several large pieces of chewing gum, masticate to an exceptionally sticky consistency and place in palm of hand. Give the Wookie a huge hug and stick the gum into the fur in the middle of his back. Your own demise will come when the Wookie finds out giving this manoeuvre its name.

Don’t be afraid to try your own “chewiecide manoeuvres”, failure is harder than you think!

I have no energy. I can’t concentrate. I’m on the verge of tears all the time, one wrong word and I’m going to burst. I’m screaming on the inside and no-one can hear me.

I’m physically disgusting, trapped in a body thats not mine and making no progress with the NHS to get anything done to correct it. I’m dependant on the anti-depressants they do provide and buying my own HRT over the internet. It’s a few months away from 2 years since I initially spoke to my GP about my gender, well over a year since I went properly full time (off my own bat), and I’m no closer than I was when I started (unless you measure progress in the amount of anti-depressants you’re being prescribed). I feel like a freak.

I’m stuck in a job I have no feeling for anymore, taken 2 pay cuts since I came out and the boss refuses to use female pronouns. Just because its better than nothing. At least he stopped pulling me aside for wearing a skirt and makeup every other day and telling me my appearance is making staff members (him) physically sick. What hope do I have of getting something better.

I’ve not seen my daughter since xmas eve and I’m afraid I’m going to loose her. I want to have her this weekend but I’ve got a really bad cold and possible chest infection. There is no way I will risk her getting it from me.

I’ve loved and lost someone because she couldn’t live with me being poly. I’m so sorry I hurt you, I never wanted to, never intended to. I can’t think of you and not well up. I still love you and always will. Please forgive me.

My whole life is shit and I’m powerless to do anything about it. Thoughts of suicide run through my head everyday. I WONT BOW TO THEM. NOT NOW. NOT EVER. I’m haunted by the memory of a friend who lost her battle and died at the start of 2007. I wont go the same way. I can’t. For Her.

Things can only get better. I have hope.

I’ve not had a cigarette in ages and don’t need one.

My babies are coming to live with me from the US real soon. I miss them so much and its only been 2 days. I love you both more than I can possibly express.

I will be ok. Just a rough spot.