->Arrow

Flying pigs. Recurring. For years. They would look in through windows, hover above rooftops and always, always be able to find my hiding place.

Your ponderous machine shook loose a recurrent thing I'd forgotten: a huge (pirate?) ship crewed by monsters and general unpleasantness. There were steps up to the deck - not the usual sort of steps for a ship, but a wide staircase - and I'd walk up it. As I climbed the stairs I knew I was walking into nightmares, and I'd will myself - so hard - to turn around but it rarely worked.


Free associating: I spent my childhood being taught to hide (intellect, skills, knowledge, emotions, desires) and being trapped in situations that made me bored and unhappy. I could, theoretically, have walked away from these situations since there was no physical restraint, but parents and guilt were forces too powerful for me to fight.