PTSD Dreams: When a Narcissist Becomes Your Haunting
We meet here sometimes, in the shadow realm, where things are unspoken, unwitnessed, unhealed.
I'm walking down an abandoned, unlit road. There's nothing but rural countryside for miles and miles. The crickets play a symphony for my lonely procession.
There's not even a car to stick out a thumb of hope towards. I have no idea where I am, but I also know exactly where I am.
I'm in the landscape of my unconscious, my private journey through trauma, healing, and memory. Here, there's solitude, danger, and introspection.
It's a path only I can walk: a survivor's path.
I hear a crunch of gravel behind me, but I do not flinch.
I know who it is.
It's him.
It's always him.
My stalker. My rapist.
My sacred pain.