The Body Electric (thebodyelectric) wrote,
The Body Electric
thebodyelectric

Unabashed: Ain't no privacy here!

I want to stop dreaming about this. I want to stop feeling herded or trapped. I want to be writing, dancing, moving again because I can pretend I have privacy.

Now, I know the feds know where I go, what I do, and what I spend my money on. Shoot, they can read my email, regular mail, and listen in on my phone calls. It's enough to make me want to live off of the grid. Maybe one day, I will.

There's an analogy to my waking life somewhere in there, but without the clear power structure and all-seeing-ness of the federal government.

But for now I will talk about my dreams. Last night I dreamt that I was taking deliveries at my home and after I signed, I was shot at. I dove for cover (behind a tank, of all things), but bullets were fired underneath the tank, so I still got shot. I froze and couldn't think of what to do next, even though the door of my house was accessible.

I stayed there, getting shot (in the hands, feet, and butt) and dodging bullets for a while before I thought to go into my house. Turns out that my house was built for this sort of thing: barricaded doors, crawl spaces, bomb shelters in the basement. I had children in my house and hid them as best I could.

I went to my bedroom in this house, behind blacked out and bricked over windows, and there was a video camera there, aimed at my bed, that I couldn't remove. It was on and recording and it was always there. Every time I looked at it, I thought about what it had already seen.

I called the police about the bullets. Somehow, even after getting shot, I wasn't hurt. Sirens showed up outside and the shooting stopped, but I was too scared to come out.

Tell me this has nothing to do with my waking life for the past 5 months. Just try and convince me.

I have not written. I have not meditated. I have not danced alone. I have nothing interesting to say to anyone, because I have no time alone to ponder the events of the world. I have not been able to analyze my own patterns because of having no private space. No space that is all my own. I have been less able to happily socialize without complaining, because I can't tell if I'm making the choice to leave or if I have been forced out by surveillance anymore.

I feel trapped and unhappy. There is no where to go to be alone. Movement is the closest thing I have, because no one can see how moving makes me feel. I care not to share.
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