I had this nightmare two nights ago. One of the most violent ones I've ever had.

I was Mexican, and I was in Mexico. It was some time ago, not presant days. I was with my family (not my actual family, but some Mexican family), and my betrothed (whom I did not like). My 'father' was boasting to the other men how well he could keep is women in line.

And I don't like remarks like that. I don't like being controlled.

So I slapped him good and hard, and he turned on me and started swearing and backhanded me to the ground. He pulled out a knife whose blade was about the length of my middle finger, double edged, well worn dark coloured handle, and stabbed me once, hard, in the left side just below my ribs.

I went down hard to the ground.

It was dusty. I remember it being hot and dusty, and they began to beat me.

My 'betrothed' sat on my back and pulled out his knife, a short, square bladed serated number that was handled and sheathed in strips of bamboo. The blade was small, about the length and width of my little finger.

He sliced me with that knife all over my back and buttocks and thighs and they continued to beat me until I could barely move.

When they left, I remember my mother (I think she was my step-mother) picking me up and helping me into the house. She told me gently it was my fault, that I should never talk back. I remember looking in the mirror at the streaking bruising down one side of my face.

Then I woke up.

Aren't you supposed to wake up before the first blow is struck?

Before&After