Tuesday, January 06, 2004
Paooki
I’ve written about my intense fear of paooki and we’ve all had ourselves a good laugh over it. Today, I thought I’d tell you why I have this fear.
If you recall from my post a few days back, I had written about the horror of being locked in a closet for 4 months. That is something one doesn’t forget no matter how old they were when it happened. Anyway, I had encountered a paook while I was in there.
My memory gives me the following image:
A dark, small place with a light coming underneath the door. The strip of light reflects off the back wall of the closet. While I’m in there, a paook crawls along that wall and into the reflected light. I distinctly remember trying to catch it, trying to keep it there with me; just so I wouldn’t be alone. I did not catch it and it left.
That’s all I remember. However, as I had said previously, sometimes things happen that dredge up, subconsciously or consciously, the fear that my brain had known at one point. Whenever I see a paook, my system freezes, my heart does stop for a second or two and I’m rigid with fear. I break out in goosebumps and sometimes a cold sweat. My first instinct is to run. However, these days, I know that to conquer it I must destroy it. This brings on a whole nother unflattering response that ultimately makes me feel sick.
I would say it’s the ‘fight or flight’ response in its finest.
The male figure, because he was faceless to me, (I couldn’t remember his face is what I mean), always manifested himself as a paook or a number of paooki in my nightmares. I used to have these nightmares an average of 2-3 times a week.
In spring of 2001, I had a dream that I was wearing my Navy peacoat and a paook had landed on the sleeve of my right arm. I remember screaming and having trouble breathing because none had ever touched me before. I would always wake up right before they did. But this time, whether on my sleeve or not, it was touching me. In the midst of my panic, a butterfly fluttered onto that very arm, right at the crook, elbow and the paook disappeared. I felt at peace immediately.
Six months later, my sister found me.
As we talked, she shared stories and photos. I demanded to see a photo of the male figure so I could make him human and fear him no longer. She sent me a photo of what he looked like when I was younger and what he looked like now.
The photo of him when he was younger did not quiet my fears. He looked as I had always assumed and he was scary. (To anyone else, he looked like a normal guy.) Then I saw the photo of him now. The drugs and the alcohol have not been kind to him and he looks pathetic.
The night I called my sister for the first time, I had a paook nightmare. In it was the largest, red striped paook I had ever seen. It was bigger than a car and it was coming to get me. I stared it down and said something to the effect that it no longer had a hold on me and it shrank to a normal paook size. I woke up.
After my sister showed me the photos, I had another nightmare. In this dream, the paook was still red striped but already small. It was crawling on a wall to my left and I was conversing with my ex-roommate. I was annoyed by this irritation and I calmly took my left hand and slapped it dead, against the wall and resumed speaking to my roommate as if I had just swatted a fly. This was monumental to me as I was able to touch it and have zero fear.
Then, my biological mom showed me excerpts of letters that the male figure wrote to her while he was in jail.
What a manipulative, condascending liar he was. She bought it hook, line and sinker when she was younger but I was able to see the blatant b.s. with each word, immediately. In fact, it was so pathetic, I fell on the floor from laughing so hard. I remember thinking, “What a complete and total dipshit. He isn’t clever at all! He’s not as smooth and intelligent and crafty as he thinks he is.” In fact, I could picture him wearing a wife beater and appearing on “Cops”, that’s how ridiculous he was in these letters.
That night, I had another dream. This time, the paook was already dead.
I didn’t have anymore of those paook nightmares for over a year. For the first time in my life, my sleep was restful and peaceful.
Lately, I’ve been having them again and I’m sure it has to do with me closing the door on this chapter once and for all.
When I was moving from Seattle, I would get these enormous barn paook in my house. They were the size of your fist in diameter. I went through a lot to rid myself of them and some, like George, were kind enough to talk me down from my agitation; something I appreciate to this day.
Last night, I dreamt I was back in that apt. in Seattle and the barn paooki were everywhere. They tried to fall on me, they tried to run up on me and one did accomplish the task. I flung it off of me and it landed in a blue cup. (Did I mention that blue is always in my dreams?)
The cup had been empty and the paook landed on the rim. Then a blue bird flew down and began to kill the paook. The way it killed it was that it was sucking out its essence, the way a butterfly may suck the pollen out of a flower. The blue cup began to fill with water. I thought it odd until I realized that the paook essence was what was filling the cup, not water. The bird continued to suck out the paook juices and the cup continued to fill with water. I realized at that point that the bird would keep me safe from the rest of the paooki and I woke up.
I know why I have my fear of paooki and yet it has such a strong hold on me that I don’t know that I’ll ever get over it. I wrote awhile ago about this fear and what I tried to get over it and all that did was make it worse.
Someone mentioned that writing this stuff out is cathartic and another mentioned it’s therapeutic.
It is. You see, it’s not only helping me, but I’ve received comments and letters telling me it’s helping others.
I had no idea this would be the result when I wrote that post. I was glad I did it just to get it out of my system but now I’m even more thankful I did it when I see some of the reactions.
BTB: Kat, Ursula....I give you the same message as I do Will. I know that sometimes, all you want is for someone to listen; my shoulder is open.
