A Dream

So I woke up way too early from a dream today where Dean had a whip in his hand and was told to lash at the body in chains in front of him. Only, because it was a dream, that body was also Dean. I knew that Dean was used to obeying commands like these. But when he took up the whip, he just stroked it softly along the back in front of him and then threw the whip away. He refused.

And I woke up.

Dean is always a stand-in for me in my dreams, so now I’m wondering both why I had myself torturing myself again and where I found the willpower to refuse. It’s an after-effect of that therapy thing, isn’t it? Trying out new ways of dealing with yourself? Actually being nicer to yourself? Weird. But not altogether unpleasant.

Still can’t go back to sleep, though.


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