posted on Jan, 2 2009 @ 06:48 PM
When I got home, I decided to call the little me, Little Dolly (3). Little Dolly was only five years old. I put Little Dolly in the dollhouse that
was in my bedroom. I sat down on my bed and watched Little Dolly. Little Dolly was crying. I didn’t know why Little Dolly was crying. Little
Dolly did not want to be in the dollhouse. All I knew was that I had to protect Little Dolly and keep her safe.
(2) Bass and Davis (1988, 78) explain that ‘memories can be triggered’ by a variety of ways. I don’t know what happened to trigger my episode,
however it is clear that I did see a little man and then I found Little Dolly.
Bass and Davis (1988, 75) state that ‘memories come up under many different circumstances’ and I felt reassured to read further down the track,
that memories ‘don’t always surface in such dramatic ways’.
(3) Carter (2008, 95) explains that ‘young children are natural multiples’. Carter (2008, 95) helped me to understand why I was dealing with a
“Children get better at weaving together their ‘I’s as they get older, but the juvenile network of self is generally much patchier than that of
adults. Most of the little ‘I’s that children generate just fade away, like wispy clouds in a summer sky. But some are too intensely experienced
to disappear. If the experiences in which they are incorporated are also very different from anything the child has previously experienced these
small characters may not merge with others and will remain isolated from the rest of the previous and future ‘I’s and frozen in time”
(Carter R, 2008, Multiplicity: The New Science of Personality, Little Brown, London EC4Y 0DY.)
Why Is Everyone Killing Me?
I am walking down a path. It is quite bright. There are other paths that lead off from it. I continue to walk forward. I walk past someone. I
continue along my path when I see that the person has turned around and followed me. The person has pulled out a sword and has stabbed me in the
back. I watch myself die. I watch myself come out of my body and I observe the dead body that was once alive. I then look at the person who has
killed me. I am confused. I ask, “Why did you just do that?”
The person doesn’t answer. The person just smiles and walks off.
I stay with my body trying to understand what just happened.
I go to a place where there are many people seated around a stage. I take my seat. It is my seat to take. It has always been my seat. Everyone has
his or her own seat. As I sit quietly, I hear my name called and I am called to walk up onto the stage. I walk up onto the stage and when I get
there, a man greets me with a smile and then takes out a sword and kills me in front of everyone. I again, watch myself come out of my body and I
observe the dead body that was once alive. I look at the person who has just killed me and I am confused. I ask, “Why did you just kill me in
front of everyone?” “What did I do to be killed in this manner?” The person doesn’t answer. The person just summons someone to remove my
dead body off the stage. I follow my dead body and have no idea what has just happened.
I am in the dark room again and I see that as I stand in the centre of my room, a man repeatedly kills me with his sword. Over and over again, the
sword pierces my little body. I see that there are many of me. Every time I am killed, I leave my dead body. I get up and stand looking at this man
when the sword kills me again. This goes on for a long time. This is a killing session. I now know what is going to happen so when the sword
pierces my body, I die and do not leave my body. I stay in my dead body. The man who is killing me with the sword only leaves the room when he
knows I am finally dead and it is only when I know he has left the room, do I get up and look at my dead body.
I am in a café. I am with some people when I see the man that killed me when I was walking along the path. I see him and continue talking to the
people I am sitting with. This man walks over to my table and takes out his sword and kills me in front of everyone. I leave my dead body where it
has fallen and ask the man, “Why are you killing me?” He doesn’t answer, he just grabs my coffee and walks off. I don’t know who this man
is. I don’t know why this man is killing me.
I am to meet up with some people in the same café. I walk in and look around for them. I see them in the corner of the café. As I walk over I see
them sitting and talking with the man that kills me. I don’t even get a chance to sit down when the man pulls out his sword and kills me. I do not
speak to him, I do not even bother trying to understand it. I pick up my dead body and walk out of the café.
I see I am in the dark room but this time the Sun is shining through the _ My Sister and I are eating tomato soup at our little red table. We
are laughing and giggling. My Mother comes in and kills both of us with her sword. She kills my Sister first and then me. We leave our dead bodies
and go and lay down on our beds. We do not understand why we have just been killed. My Sister after she has finished crying asks me, “What did we
I don’t answer because I am still crying.
The Man Calls Me A Whore
I run away from a man who frightens me. I have been running from him for a long time. I know he is killing me but I don’t know why. I decide to
stop running, turn around and run towards him. I ask, “Why are you following me?” He puts handcuffs on me and takes me to a jail cell. He puts
me in prison.
The man, who I am in jail with, scares and confuses me. I am handcuffed to the prison bars whilst he walks around looking at me. He is intimidating
and has all the power here. I ask, “Why am I am in jail?”
He replies, “You are in jail because you are a whore.”
“But I am only five years old! What is a whore?”
I don’t understand why I am being punished for being a whore and remain silent. I don’t even understand why I am being called a whore. I don’t
even know what a whore is. The man says he will keep me in jail to make sure I behave myself. The man says if I do as he says everything will be all
right, so I sit in jail under the supervision of a man who is punishing me because he says I am a whore .
The man bothers Big Dolly and she decided to cut off her breasts and cut off her long hair. Another woman comes into the jail to see me and asks,
“What is happening to you?”
She looks like a woman. I tell her to go away! She is not my friend at all. She pretends to be my friend so I can be punished for being a whore and
she won’t. She is free to walk around. She is not in jail.
The man says that while I look the way I do, he would not chase me to try to kill me. He says he wouldn’t even enjoy raping me. I continue to sit
in the jail cell. The man says I am hurting myself to deny him. He tells me to take off my jail clothes and walk around naked. He says now, there
isn’t anyone who would want me or want to have sex with me. I am so thin. I have no muscle tone. My ribs are visible. I am ugly. My head is
shaved and there are two scars where my breasts used to be. The man says I no longer look like a woman, I don’t even feel like a woman.
I think to myself, I have some power here, not much, but I have some. I have enough power to prevent being raped and killed. The man says he no
longer wants me to be in the jail, in fact he no longer wants to even look at me. He tells me to pick out clothes to wear for when I leave. I chose
to wear a black tight fitting tee shirt and black pants so I look even thinner and everyone can see I do not have breasts.
The man says he wants to take me to a hospital because I am sick. I am so confused. The man calls me a whore, punishes me and then wants to take me
to a hospital so I can get well? I say I am not going to a hospital so I can get well. Once I am well, he will only put me back in jail and punish
me for being a whore.
As I walk from the jail cell and out of the prison I see there are other woman walking around freely. They look like women. I ask the man, “Why
aren’t they in jail?” He says, “These women are not whores, but you are”. I don’t understand this.
I leave the jail and move into a house. I decide to live alone. I am a recluse. I feel safe living this way. After some time my hair has grown
back and I have put a little bit of weight on. But the man’s face haunts me…I worry that if he sees me, he might decide to chase after me again
to rape and kill me and then punish me for being a whore.
Inside the Bubble
I am in the dark place again but it is not my bedroom. All I see is a bubble of light. I have to look at this. I don’t know what it is so I walk
over and look at it. I see that this bubble of light has two layers. Something is happening in the bubble of light. I try to see what is happening.
I am standing up watching something that is happening in the bubble of light.
In the centre of this bubble, I can see someone is hurting a little girl. I don’t know why I am watching this. I don’t understand why I am
seeing this. I look into the bubble again and I wonder if what I see is what I see. There is a man and he is raping a little girl. I am
I see in the outer layer the little girl is trying to get away. She is kicking and screaming. I then look around the dark place and see that just
outside the bubble of light, the little girl has fallen into the dark place, she looks dead.