I just woke up from a very vivid dream that inspired me to write this while it's still fresh.
The setting goes like this: I was a high school kid at an all boys school, normal kid who fit into society but largely kept to myself. Did what everyone else did, just another sheep in the herd, unnoticeable.
There was a set system in place where the senior kids had first preference to a lot. I'm all about seniority and such, it teaches a young man respect and a sense of societal structure at a young age - one would say it just teaches him to be a p*ssy, but that's an argument for another day. But the apparent system in my dream was rather oppressive. Violent. Brutal. It was intense and largely unaddressed. Up until one incident.
On our way to what seemed to be some campus we were required to walk single file via a certain shop in a market where we'd have to pass by and pay homage to "the keepers". Primitive extortion, I won't get into it. So on this day I was broke, but I'd also had enough and thought to myself "What happens if I just say no?". A beating? A scolding? I was willing to take either for my "cause". So I bypassed the shop. I was warned. I carried on. I wasn't having it.
So I emerged out of another route to rejoin the single file to campus. Just before I got to the line a much bigger boy pulled me away by my collar and roughed me up. I struggled away to free myself to no success. In a few moments a few of my friends came to help, basically tried to free me up until more bigger boys came at which point my friends turned away and returned to the queue. Before they did I tossed my phone to one of them, luckily he realised the idea was for him to record what was going to happen. Thankfully technology came in handy in this dream.
So it began. The slaps, punches, shoves. The whole time I repeatedly asked "What do you want from me? Why are you hitting me? What the f*ck is your problem?" To which they responded fully, surprisingly volunteering all the information I needed recorded on my phone. I mean the information was crystal clear, unambiguous - just like how bad guys volunteer details of their whole plot after capturing the good guy, supposedly before killing the good guy. The good guy then breaks free and saves the day thanks to his new found information from the bad guy himself (rolls eyes). So basically I was beaten. It felt like maybe because of the way I demanded these answers prompted more violence directed at me. I suppose my demeanour wasn't that of submission and it offended my torturer. Whatever. I was beaten. It was recorded.
Later on at hostel, the atmosphere was tense. Literally every student witnessed what happened. The only figures of authority that witnessed were students themselves, prefects, as they were called. In that time it was unnaceptable to report to authorities if something happened to you. "No snitching" was quite a big thing. It was actually something I upheld in that dream under the impression that as a community of boys we had the capacity to resolve our own issues without intervention from the staff. We believed in self governance. The means were often unorthodox at most. But it worked for the most part. It was liberating. So the mental quandary was challenging. What was I going to do?
I devised a plan. My assailant was popular with the girls, so i thought I would write a post (yes I had a blog in my dream too) and post the video of what had happened. My plan was to show the world what a coward he was, how he preyed on others simply because he expected no one to fight back, he expected no reprisal. After all he was the big guy, who was actually going to fight him? At least that's what he thought. Just like every dream there are logical holes - it didn't occur to me that the staff were also on social media platforms. But that's besides the point.
So I went up to his dorm, as soon as I opened the door everyone stared at me. It was taboo for a junior to enter a senior dorm - go figure. Then I said out loud to him in front of his friends, "You beat me up earlier and let it be known that I did not concede, you stopped. Let it also be known that while you may inevitably win a physical fight between us it will never amount to me being afraid of you. I'm not afraid of you and just to prove that I will actually make you suffer a lot more than I did. You will never forgive me for what I'm going to do to you and for the rest of your life you will know I ruined you and the most you could do was just beat me up again." It was a heroic moment, at least it felt like it. The conviction in my voice, the sincerity in my heart. It was pure. I genuinely believed in what I was saying. I meant every word. The moment was soon to be over when he stood up hurriedly, anger in his eyes strode towards me. I didn't run. What happened next was a repeat of the earlier incident on our way to campus. Even the prefects watched on. I don't care much to describe it at this point.
After being stopped by the rest of his mates he wouldn't stop saying "try me and you will regret it". I wasn't moved. I went back to my dorm hoping to lie on my bed, but it wasn't there. I asked who had taken my bed but none of my dorm mates were forthcoming with that information. Bunch of punks, I thought to myself. I just sat down against the cold wall, pulled out my phone and delivered my promise. I'd struck a blow. Or so I thought
For some reason the whole thing fast forwarded a day or two to when I'd returned home, hanging out with my step dad. I'd gone to fetch something in my car in the driveway and heard gunfire, two distinct shots. Through the window I saw my step dad fall. I rushed back into the house to find luckily only his arm had just been grazed. I'm not sure why, but we kept firearms in the house. We fetched them and gunfire exchange with our unknown assailants ensued. They had automatic weapons and we had 9mm handguns with one magazine each. We were quickly out. Before they realised we were out of ammunition I, for some reason, checked my blog. Maybe deep down I thought this was the consequence my bully kept going on about? Are things that invlove girls that serious to him that he dispatches a military unit to shoot up my house? And who the hell has that kind of resource at 17 in high school anyway??? I realised the blog post didn't go up anyway and was only saved to my drafts. I know, the whole situation was weird, even for a dream. A bit of a melodramatic expression by my subconscious I believe. Anyway, these military men then moved into the house, grabbed my phone at which point I woke up - that was a few minutes ago now.
So the dream had me thinking as I've been typing. Just trying to run through the symbolism of it all. The david and Goliath thing is an all to played out story. I choose to focus more on the fear aspect. It's one thing to be a hero. But doesn't a hero usually expect to win? Doesn't he expect justice to prevail? Can injustice stand so tall casting a shadow on the supposed deliverers of justice? Maybe justice would've prevailed later but I woke up so the story didn't end. But that fear - or rather the absence of it the deliberate choice to discard it despite the grevious bodily harm I was to suffer. Is that matrydom? What does this symbolise? Will my apparent capacity to discard fear lead me into trials as opposed to helping me conquer them? Then again the dream didn't end so maybe I would've conquered. Maybe the dream didn't need to "end" and the message was clear in that seemingly unfinished story. Maybe it's how unbound I felt when I let go of it, how it is sometimes necessary to shed fear or at least pay no mind to it. I suppose it could be useful after all. Given there are a lot of times in life when fear holds me back, holds us all back. I can think of a few times I could have done without fear. Have I been obeying the cautionary aspect of having fear too much all along? Could the meaning be that literal to start with? After all it's only been a few minutes.
Then there's the fact that my friends were willing to help me up until a certain point. What was up with that by the way?? I suppose in life one can only expect external help up to a point. The rest is pretty much up to you. They say "no man is an island", but to what point? The contradiction is all too apparent. Or maybe sometimes in life you have a struggle, a cause that only affects you. One that people may seem to understand, may seem to sympathise with, may seem to be willing to defend with you but only up to a certain point - when a certain confrontation weeds away everyone from the cause apart from yourself. I suppose it's useful to be able to identify that sort of thing, is it not? Not expecting aid does save you a lot of disappointment does it not? Them helping me briefly was noble, but does it still count as nobility if it's so limited? Maybe I'm just ungrateful?
Then there's the social media attack thing. The plotted character assassination I had planned for my bully. Simple. Whatever challenge you face, there's always an epic way to overcome it. You just need to have the guts to do it. Right? Is that it?
It all feels all too face value at this point, all too shallow. Symbolism usually requires much more thought, doesn't it? Maybe I should just stop looking for a rhyme and reason that's not there. Whatever. It's 05:48 in the morning. I'm going back to bed. I dreamt. I wrote. That's it for now. Although I know it will be a while before I shake this one off.
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