Rainbow Flags in the Chapel and Uncontrolled Anger: A Nightmare of Self-Trial
In the dream, today was Sunday, and I went to the chapel for service with my parents.
The black rectangular wooden desk in front of me was covered with my things, all objects representing my LGBT identity. There seemed to be many rainbow flags of various sizes and rainbow heart pins. Suddenly I remembered that Christians don't like these things. The feeling was like oil bubbling up from the bottom of the water.
Then I smashed them all onto the floor, shattering them, trampling them to pieces. The sound they made was very muffled, very muffled.
Then, like a madman, I overturned everything on the desk. There was a pile of small flags on the desk, I don't know what the pattern was, brown, a deadly amount of them, countless.
I threw them all on the floor and crushed them under the soles of my shoes, hearing the faint snap of the flagpoles breaking.
Hidden inside the desk drawer was a small booklet, eight pages in total. It contained the names and photos of blessed clergy. The middle page was me and my photo. The me in the photo was smiling, it was a pretty good picture. I stared at that smile for two seconds and felt that it wasn't me. I tore the booklet to shreds too, ripping it page by page, throwing it on the floor, and stomping on it many times. I was actually quite surprised to see this at the time, because I had no idea I was in this booklet. The surprise only lingered for a moment before being replaced by an inexplicable anger.
The person in the seat ahead suddenly yawned, a very slow and long yawn, and his head leaned against the edge of my desk. I told him to drop dead while pushing the back of his head away; my palms were covered in sweat. Then I frantically apologized to him, a whole string of sorries.
Afterwards, I stood up and started slapping myself hard in the face. I pounded my chest and head with my fists, bone against bone, making a hollow drumming sound. I cursed myself for being a huge fucking idiot while beating myself up; I swore I would beat myself to a pulp.
Then I walked to the back. My parents were sitting a few rows behind. That day was their first day back from America. I walked up to them, bent down, and shouted with all my might, saying I was having a manic episode. I said everyone in the world was a fucking piece of trash, including myself. Let everyone die.
The sound was so loud I thought all the glass in the chapel would shatter. But no one heard. Only my parents; they were in great pain, very quiet.
After cursing, I returned to my seat.
Today's preaching pastor was a thirteen-year-old girl, wearing a black dress, the hem just reaching her knees. She walked over and asked me a question. I forgot what the question was, anyway it was about Christianity. I also called her a fucking idiot, told her to go die quickly, to go back into her mother's womb and restart. I said a lot of ugly, unbearable things. Every sentence was dug out from my throat. She stood there without any reaction at all. The corner of her black skirt swayed slightly, maybe blown by the wind.
The scene suddenly changed. This was an unfamiliar bedroom, a small room in my home in Beihai. A yellowed photo of my mother hung on the wall, my mother was smiling. This place, it seemed I had been here many times and yet never been here. The bedsheets were old, and outside the window there was the smell of the sea. I went mad again and smashed things, I tore the pillow open, shattered the cup, and cursed everyone in the world as fucking idiots. I ran out in the middle of the night, there was no one on the street, and my shadow was stretched very long under the streetlight. I continued to curse at the empty road, everyone is a fucking idiot, my voice swallowed by the wind.
Finally, my consciousness told me to post this dream on Xiaohongshu, and not to say it was a dream. I also had to send it to an online friend, a very gentle and nice female online friend, maybe a future online girlfriend.
The dream ended.
