Am I Dreaming

S

Rape unfortunately became something I became familiar with.  Some say that once you have been raped you are "prone to be raped again."  That is horrible to think.  My take on it is that a rape victim who does not seek help tends to become a victim over and over.  Until proper help is received, there is a chance of re-occurrence.  I think sexual predators can sense a person with low self-esteem.  They flock to it like a vulture flocks to dead meat.

            I had this friend of mine, Nate, that I had known for about two years.  We had been roommates at one point.  Drinking was a game we were both all too familiar with.  I was still in a numbing phase in life.  I believe I was twenty-three when the incident occurred.  I was a very heavy drinker.  The norm was at least ten shots of jagermeister mixed with about six-twelve beers or cocktails.  I blacked out a lot.  There are so many nights that I can't recall anything after a certain time.  I was also doing a lot of cocaine, I'm sure that didn't help.

            I was dating someone - although since this part of my life is such a blur I honestly can't remember who.  Probably another nice guy that I totally screwed over (I had the typical pattern of staying with the jerks and getting screwed over by them, and then dating nice guys and completely destroying any chance with them).  Nate knew my boyfriend though, and I think they were even friends.  Anyways, Nate and I went out together one night.  We got pretty wasted, although this was not a blackout night.  I remember everything.

            Nate was going to crash on my couch as we didn't leave until 2 am and he lived up the mountain and getting a taxi would take hours.  No big deal though, we had lived together before and I completely trusted my friend.

            We got to my house and I had the munchies (must not have done any cocaine that night).  I threw a pizza in the oven and Nate and I went to the couch to watch some television.  I was super tired and kept dozing out.  I am actually infamous for falling asleep in the middle of conversations, movies, dancing, whatever.  The pizza finished and I brought it back to the couch with me.

            I was nodding in and out of it, eating pizza during every waking moment.  Eventually, I was completely passed out.  When I get really intoxicated, I have some very crazy and realistic dreams.  This particular night I was having a sex dream about my boyfriend (pretty sure I was dating Dan).  I remember it clearly, because it was some of the best sex sex in my life (too bad it was only a dream).  We were getting really hot and heavy, and all of the sudden my dream was interrupted.  I couldn't wake up though, but something felt wrong.

            I was still dreaming, and the sex kept getting weirder and weirder.  I remember all of the sudden actually being able to open my eyes again.  Every time I would open my eyes I would see Nate, but every time I would close them I would see my boyfriend.  At first, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me.  Then all of the sudden I felt a weight on top of me.  I opened my eyes again, and there was Nate.  Only this time I realized I was not dreaming, and Nate was really on top of me, and we were having sex.

            I gave a startled yelp and Nate looked down at me.  "What's wrong?" he asked.

            "I was sleeping, and now you are on top of me and inside me," I slowly stuttered.  "I thought I was having sex with my boyfriend.  What the hell is going on?  How did this happen?  I don't remember asking you for sex ever.  What are you doing?  Get the hell off of me."  My tone was definitely becoming angry.  I may have been drunk, but gosh darn-it, I KNOW I am not okay with this.  This is fucked up.  Something is not right.  I must be dreaming.

            Nate looked super confused, but he did stop right away and get off of me.  He sat right next to me and looked up at me, almost in tears.  "I'm sorry.  I'm really, really sorry," he cried out.  "I, I, I don't, I don't know what I was thinking.  I don't know what I was doing.  I'm fucked up, man, I fucked up bad"

            The one thing I can say about this incident is that Nate did own up to what he did.  He never once tried to say it was my fault or I brought it on.  He KNEW he did something that was more than inappropriate.  That's probably why I never went to the police about this case.  That and the fact that the police terrified me and I was under the impression that they wanted to hurt me more than help me.

            Nate left the next morning before I got up and around.  We haven't spoken since then.  At first I saw him around town a couple of times and it was hard.  He was drunk, I was drunk, and tears were the only interaction we had.  Then I moved away, so it was easy to go without seeing him.  I heard he turned his life around.  He stopped drinking, started going to church and found his faith.  I did go to church about three years ago and saw him there with a girl and a baby that I later found out was his.  That doesn't make what happened between Nate and I any better, but it does help a little.  At least this person saw what he did was wrong, and I'd like to think it's part of the reason he made so many changes.