Down the Rabbit Hole Of My Trauma And Nightmares

Once upon a time, a little girl no more than the age of one was sexually abused by her alcoholic, everything-addicted biological mother.  
For the next two years, the mother reveled in her motherhood by drinking pregnant, drinking and driving pregnant, and walking around the dead world of Kingston, New York at 2:00 in the morning with her baby in her stroller during the winter. One of the little girls father’s friends noticed this, thus telling the father. He then began fighting for custody of the girl. But as he had several mental health issues, and several dozens of hospitalizations under his belt, not to mention his own illustrious record, it took a very long time. Just as they were going to hand her over to her future adoptive family, he won custody. Less than 24 hours later, he dropped her on the doorstep of said family, with a note that said “I can’t do this.” At age four, she laid in the tomb of her bed for four whole weeks, unable to move. Every time she tried, cinder blocks of depression weighed down her limbs. They weighed down her eyes. No matter how much she tried, she could not lift a muscle. At day three, the nightmares began. A grassy plateau. An enormous brown volcano that looked far too close, before she realized how far away it was. Or was it close? Before she had any time to process more, the monstrous volcano erupted. And out of it came not just heat and lava, but creatures. Aliens straight out of Toy Story that were red instead of green, made of lava instead of plastic, and they numbered in the millions. Millions and millions of these creatures rushing directly for her. She could not or would not move. She isn’t sure which. Perhaps she just can’t remember. They climbed up her body and melted the skin from her skeleton. As she awoke screaming, her whole body tingled and vibrated painfully and uncomfortably in place of the agonizing pain from her nightmare. Ever after, any nightmare she had that involved pain, would feel exactly the same after she awoke, in exactly the same spots where any injury occurred. She’s tired. She can write more later.