Floor Plant Meets Disturbed Father
Jamie and I were sleeping in my childhood bed and bedroom. There was a plant on the carpeted floor beside the bed. We were naked and I was moving over him in a sexual manner, but before doing so I looked up at the door to make sure it was closed. It was slightly open, just a crack, which I thought was okay. I began to press my body to his. Suddenly my dad barges in, enraged, crazed, carrying largest pieces of cardboard. He’s screaming at me, at us, how I could have a plant on the floor next to the bed and tucked in a corner, a hazard, how I could be so stupid—and he begins to, while screaming, mount the cardboard on the bed’s base as if to contain us. I’m shouting What the fuck are you doing?! Are you crazy!? Coming in here to wake us up and doing this!? What the fuck is wrong with you?! He’s yelling similar things back to me. It feels insane. It’s like his head is spinning around and around. Finally I yell so much and cry so hard for him to leave that he storms out. I cannot believe what just happened. I’m apologizing profusely to Jamie, and feel so crazy and so hurt and I storm after my dad, down the hall to my parent’s bedroom. I walk in and my dad is on the bed, laying on his back, but his body now so tiny, with his feet up like a child’s. A woman is administering him medicine. He’s sedated, subdued, no longer my father. I wonder where my mother is. I think/feel she’s downstairs at the computer terminal.