sodomy trophies and car crashes

this may be the longest posting ever...
sorry.

I was asleep in someone’s basement and I was really tired. I knew that someone was trying to wake me up but all I wanted to do was sleep. Finally I realized that I was going to have to get up and face the waker in person, but I didn’t want to do so until I had gone to the bathroom and gotten ready. I tried to get upstairs without being noticed, but the route was blocked and I couldn’t find a good way out.

I got upstairs and saw that my entire family was there-ENTIRE family; people I couldn’t name but to whom I know I am related. My aunt was there and she was pressuring me to go somewhere with them. I was very resistant to leaving- I didn’t feel like interacting and I wanted to go back to bed more than anything.

I went into my aunt’s bathroom and instead of using the toilet I decided to pee on the rug.
I immediately felt bad about it but it was too late to stop. So I didn’t.

The family somehow succeeded in convincing me that if I did not go I would be the worst person ever so I got in a weird SUV thing and with my aunt (not the one I peed on) and 3 kids who are marginally related to me. As we were driving to some restaurant my aunt was unloading on me all of her psychological problems and begging me for a diagnosis. I didn’t want to diagnose her with anything and I kept saying “you’re fine, you are fine”. Eventually, I grew tired of her begging and started asking her diagnostic questions, “do you sometimes…?” type questions. She answered no to all of them except the last which involves self harm.

It was through the self-harm questioning that she revealed her true answers to the previous questions and that she did, in fact meet all the diagnostic criteria for this particular disorder. I was annoyed.

There was a lot of traffic out the night we were driving, and as we approached an intersection, I noticed the traffic was moving really fast and that all the cars were very close together as they went around the corner. We were stopped at the light behind a bunch of cars, in the center lane. Traffic going the other direction started moving just as fast as the others had. I saw a car facing my direction (but turning left at the intersection) flying down the street and I knew it wasn’t going to stop.
I didn’t see the crash, but I heard it. When the traffic cleared I saw this silver sedan completely crushed on the driver’s side. I knew that whoever had been driving was now either a bloody dead mess or a bloody live mess but either way he/she was f’ed up. Throughout this I was saying “no no no”. over and over. I wasn’t yelling and I wasn’t talking to anyone in particular, but I was very upset about the situation.

We pulled over to wait for the police so we could give a statement and just happened to be right outside the restaurant to which we were headed. My aunt started to get out an I planned on getting out of the car to talk to the police, but she told me to take the smallest girl we had been riding with and head into the restaurant. I (annoyed again) obliged and picked up the little girl.

The restaurant was set up for an awards–banquet type deal, with really odd trophies and cakes and stuff. The place was huge and full of people. My old dance teacher was there but I did not say hello (she hates me now; long story). There was a big empty stage in the front of the room and a really long curtain divider over to my right. I asked my pee-aunt what the hell was going on and she told me only that one of the honorees was not there to pick up his award.

I somehow figured out in my own that the awards represented different types of (socially) stigmatized or (socially) immoral acts that were often committed by the honorees. As I looked at the trophies, I saw that they were statues of things like gay sex and powerful women. There were about 6 that I paid close attention to and tried to figure out what they represented but I can only remember a couple. There was nothing indicating who would be receiving the awards. I mentioned to my aunt that “I think dancing is considered a sin in Alabama”. She agreed.

Just then the song “New York, New York” began playing (Sinatra, not some angry dead rapper).
Now, for 20 years I fancied myself a dancer, and this song was one which I danced to many times. It was one of those dances my former company performed every three or four years and it was good.
I was hit with the urge to start a kick line and do the dance. So I did. I looked over to my right, where there was the dividing curtain, and saw that there were about a hundred girls in costumes doing the dance along with me. I knew 3 or four of them from when I used to dance, the others were a lot younger.
The girls I knew were wearing the same costume that I wore the last time I did New York-all purple and gold and pretty- and the girls I didn’t know were wearing costumes for other dances I had done throughout the years. It was kinda neat, they were pretty age specific, for example, the 10ish year olds were wearing costumes that I wore when I was 10, etc. the one that sticks out most in my mind was this yellow monstrosity with feathers. I don’t want to talk about it.

After the song was over I went back behind the curtain to say hello to the girls I know. I had a hard time finding them, as I had to wade through a sea of sparkly children, but I finally found them. I was talking to a girl, Nichole (made that up) about the state of the company and telling her how great it was that she was still dancing. I asked her if she still had the yellow costume too. She said, “yes, but (the teacher had) turned it into something else”. What was once a shirt was now an accessory or something. She asked how I was doing and I got about 2 words out before I interrupted myself and, crying, said “I miss dance” I put my head down on a chair and cried for a couple minutes, unable to get any words out. I decided to suck it up and said, “oh well, what can you do?”, in a really sad defeated tone.

That was it.
I need medication.