Warning! My dreams contain mature content. Some people may find my dreams to be disturbing. Please do not continue reading if you are under age, easily offended, or do not want to read serious content.

I climb into the rafters hoping to escape the danger below. Pulling myself up and into the small space I pray that I was quiet enough not to attract too much attention. Many times before I have been here in this same spot, crouched in fear, trying to disappear. My hands tremble as I step away from the edge.

‘Am I safe now?’ I ask myself silently on the inside so as not to give away my hiding place. Knowing I couldn’t possibly have escaped that easily I began devising several back up plans.

“Come out! Come out! Wherever you are!” I heard a voice chanting. “You can run but you can’t hide little girl…” I recognized it.

That was her voice, the voice of the woman. I can tell it without even seeing the witch’s face. She is hunting me.

“You thought you could get away from me did you?” She called into the dark building assuming that I can hear her. My knees knocked together as my whole body trembled in fear. I held my breath in anticipation.
‘Please God!’ I prayed silently, ‘Don’t let her eat me.’

She had a thing for vore…for those of you who might have never heard of it, vorarephillia is a sexual perversion in which you become sexual aroused, find gratification, or pleasure from cannibalism. The most common type is “soft vore” which is the fantasy of swallowing someone whole with no bloodshed. Canth was into what would be considered hard vore/vampirism.

Often they would all joke about being vampires. They would play their little table top role playing games and pretend. Large gatherings of people would come over, or meet at the park, to play live action together. Online they would write fantasy stories. They always joked about being a cult. Behind closed doors…in the basements and dungeons…it is not a game.

In my dream I decide to run. I’m on the third story of my grandparents’ house in Seward Park. I look out across Lake Washington and suddenly realize I’m dreaming. So then I decide to fly instead.

I launch myself off the roof just as she is clutching for the purple velvet of my skits but I escape, just barely.

“Get back here you little bitch!” She screamed in a shrieking tone.

“Never!” I yell as I try to glide to a tree, or a roof. I needed something to land on every few feet because instead of flying confidently like a bird I glided like a squirrel or the small marsupial sugar glider that stretched out its flappy arms and launched itself from tree to tree. “Flying” was only the technical term. In my dream it always feels like falling. When I run I can’t really run and when I fly I only sort of fly.

I noticed a small girl clinging in a tree so I aimed for her and landed with a crash only a few feet below her. She was about four or five, with long dark blonde hair and brown eyes just like me. Apparently she had climbed up here on her on. Perhaps, like me, she was hiding from someone.

“Psst.” I whispered trying not to scare her. “Little girl… Can I help you?”

“Yes but I can’t get down,” she said nervously eyeing down the fifty foot trunk of the ancient cedar tree. “Even if I could she would find me. I can’t go down,” she started crying, “and I can’t go home.” She stared off into the distance silent tears falling like raindrops.

But it wasn’t raining now. The sky was grey as usual but as the two of us sat in that tree we were unusually dry and warm.

“It’s ok.” I tried to reassure her. “What’s your name? Wait let me guess…Kiki!”

“How did you know?” She asked in her soft girlish tone still looking down at the distant ground as if somehow by keeping her eyes on it she was guaranteeing her safety.

“I am you.” I responded. “This is only a dream. Are you ok now?” I climbed up to the branch next to her and sat down.

“Let’s blink somewhere.” She said softly closing her eyes. I did the same and seconds later when I opened them we were at an old playground on the beach.

“Ha!” I laughed, pulling off my shoes. “Now that’s better!”

Digging our toes into the sand we both giggled and sighed with relief when we collapsed on the beach. Suddenly a sun break in the North West clouds and gold flecks lit up our brown eyes and our hair.

“You are so beautiful.” I told the child version on me. “Kiki, I love you! Don’t every go away ok?”

“This is where I live now.” She replied with a smile. “Now I’m inside of you until the day you die when we will be reestablished in Heaven. For now I belong in your heart, in your mind, and in your dreams. Come visit me here. When you are afraid call out to me or come sit and play!”

She jumped up and hopped onto a swing. Slowly at first her pumping legs lifted her only slightly. Gradually she rose higher and higher in the swing. Her hair splayed out in gold behind her, a smile spread across her face.

‘Thank you child me,’ I thought and climbed into the seat next to her.

“Thank you for saving me Kiki!” I said sailing like a bird on a wing in that swing. Climbing higher and higher I touched.

“No Dominique, Thank YOU for saving us!” She responded and then I awoke.

-Dominique Barrentine 



Warning! My dreams contain mature content. Some people may find my dreams to be disturbing. Please do not continue reading if you are under age, easily offended, or do not want to read serious content. 
      Also just as a note; I have gotten some feedback on my blog. I enjoy hearing the mixed comments from everyone. Some people think I shouldn’t be posting such “dramatic” materials publicly. I want to explain why I am doing this as opposed to keeping them separated. Part of me wants save all of them for a time when I am ready to publish my book. I however decided against that because I know it is VERY IMPORTANT TO SHARE this with as many people as possible. 
      This entry is a perfect example of why it is so important to speak up. No one in my family knew my uncle was molesting me. I have stayed silent most of my life on this and many other serious situations. It has been ~10 years since he first laid hands on me. How much has happened in that time. If I had spoken up at the time…if I could have let go of the shame and fear when I was a young teenager… Well who knows. I just hope by sharing now I can inspire others to talk about these serious issues. 
      My uncle was in my dream last night. That’s not surprising as he is in my dreams frequently. Since he stated grooming me around puberty and then molesting me during visits with my grandparents I have had nightmares involving my uncle. 
          Last night in my dream I was in my grandparents house. I’ve had dreams exactly like this before so even though everything is a little different I knew where everything was. There is a secret room in the attic. There are secret tunnels and compartments only I know about. Their house is so complex, but I’ve dreamed this dream a thousand times. 
    I recognize my uncle. He looks so normal. He looks like he could be anyone. But I know the truth. He is as far from normal as they come. The poor broken man. 
     What made him this way? I could tell you what I think but in reality I really don’t know. Maybe some people are more predisposed to violence and abuse. Perhaps he was abused himself? I do have my theories. 
      He was always so nice to me. He was my favorite uncle. He always talked to me, told me I was “so mature.” He gave me things: cigarettes, alcohol, and drugs. More than anything my uncle lavished love and attention on me. 
        I was so desperate. I wanted love so badly. I was insecure and no matter what people would say I felt terrible about myself. I know I did bad things in school for the same reason. Maybe part of me really liked the negative attention I was getting because at least when I was in trouble my mother couldn’t ignore me. 
       My dreams of my uncle are always exactly the same. Terror and tears accompanied by shame and hiding. I tried to deny the truth. Then the truth hunts me down and shakes me. 
        What can I really do about it though? It’s over and I’m safe now. All I have to show for what happened to me is these nightly nightmares. What do the abusers have but a guilty conscience (if that!?) 
        So many abusers could do it again. The first chance they have to be close to another young woman. What will he do? Was it just me that was irresistible? Or is there something broken in the mind that needs fixing? And how would jail fix that? Certainly not. But perhaps my mind would be set at ease. 
      I did press charges and help put one man behind bars. I will write about it again sometime because that is a very important thing to share. But he was a stranger compared to my uncle. I loved my uncle. I trusted him. He was my favorite uncle.
     At least it’s all over and I am awake. As long as I am awake I am safe. It’s amazing I sleep at all. 

-Dominique Barrentine


Warning! My dreams and nightmares often contain graphic content. Some people would find the things I dream about to be offensive. Definitely not suitable for children. Mature content please be advised.

I have had nightmares since I was about 12 years old. After being sexually abused it wasn’t surprising my subconscious would battle it out at night.

For many years I also had night terrors in which I would not remember my dreams but I would act them out. Sleepwalking was a common occurrence for many, many years and I would become violent and even sometimes ill.

Often I have night mares involving rape. The other night in my dream I was kidnapped by a man that I recognized as a heroine user. At first I wasn’t too afraid. But he and his friend forced me to do heroine. They held me down and stuck a needle in my arm.

This dream continued in great detail, seeming to be actual reality. While I am dreaming I can feel… I felt it when they repeatedly raped me in my dream. They stripped me of everything I had taking with them part of my humanity.

As the night progressed these strangers started to leave me alone for periods of time. Every time I had the chance I tried to work out my great escape. But there was no way out. The only window was a tiny vent sized bathroom window. I was crawling out of it the best I could when my rapists returned. They drug me through broken glass and beat me into unconsciousness.

I’ll stop there because my dreams tend to be too graphic for me to even want to continue reading. I have had these types of dreams almost every night since I lost my virginity at twelve and was continuously raped over my teen years by so many different men.

Note to all men and people doing raping…if she’s 12, she doesn’t want to, even if she plays along…she’s 12.

So many rapes happen every day. It’s a tragedy that we turn the other way and ignore it. Having been a victim of sexual abuse I know why most girls don’t speak up. There’s a stigma to it and often it makes us feel dirty to admit that disgusting things have happened in our life’s. We sometimes feel broken and used and a lot of us just don’t want to deal with it. It’s easier to pretend like nothing happened.

I’m tired of feeling ashamed. I shouldn’t be the one to feel ashamed. They should. I’m tired of staying quiet and not talking about it and pretending that it never happened just wanting it to go away. I’m done staying quiet on issues of humanity! Raping is inhuman.

End Rape NOW.

We have free will, use it. Just don’t rape.

Prosecute rapists to the fullest extent of the law. The Bible says that the man should be killed if he’s not willing to pay the price. I know that’s a little Old Testament but you know… We have laws for a reason. Rape is wrong. That is why it’s illegal.

Every victim of sexual abuse feel strengthened. We have the power to change the world. God is on our side. Jesus is on our side. We win!

Don’t be afraid. You are not alone. There are so many of us. We can do it!

With love

-Dominique Barrentine