I’m 22 years old. I’ve been having some pretty vivid real dreams. Half the time I don’t know if it’s real or if it’s just a dream. My dreams consisted of me being between 5-8years old in a barn/garage with a much older neighbor (16+yrs) who is touching me, kissing me, showing me their genitals and making me touch them.
I’ve been really bothered by it. I know this neighbor, I lived next to them for I don’t know how many years. So it couldn’t be real, right? I mean, what 16+ year old is going to do that to a 5-8 year old?
I got the nerve to slowly work it into the conversation. Asking “Did we ever hang out when I was younger?” He would say “yes” and then I worked in where and he said garage and I asked “what did we do when hanging out?” He said “kissing you naked” I asked him if I had ever seen his genitals and he replied “yes. we were young.”
Yes, we were young. I was 5-8 years old (can’t exactly remember). Children that age only want to have friends and feel safe. So why not feel safe with a neighbor whom you have been friends with for a few years? A child that young doesn’t think about what that person is capable of, that child doesn’t know right from wrong. They trust the adult because they make children feel safe.
He admitted to molesting me when I was 5-8 years old and him being 16+ years at the time. Why he admitted to it is beyond me. I feel really overwhelmed. My brain has suppressed it for many years and now it’s overloading. I don’t know how to feel.
Shortly after that I was raped at 12 years. So I guess I made the statistics on the chances of being abused multiple times. Awesome. I don’t know what to do with this. It’s well over the statues of limitations. Nothing can be done. It sickens me that he doesn’t think he did anything wrong. I’ve been having trust issues. I mean, I have every right. A neighbor and relative abused me. If they can do that, what says other people can’t?
No one seems to understand any of it. “Move on” “Get over it, it’s been so long!” But until you get abused you will never understand. Maybe I’m making excuses, I don’t know anymore.











