THAT EVENING

I watch Disney's Alice through the Looking Glass. Sigh! It's barely even based on Lewis Carroll. Looks, 10; story, 3. Alice is a sea-captain who steals a time-orb to save the Mad Hatter's family, then goes further back to prevent the Queen of Hearts from banging her head and making her lovably ditzy. We learn family matters, you gotta forgive, and you can't change the past, just reconcile with it. Disney-wholesome.

But as a viewer I'm not wholesome. I find the childhood version of the White Queen hot, certainly sexier than Ann Hathaway as teen Alice, and she's the only other one who's even slightly attractive or even interesting. Johnny Depp tries but he's wasted. Weak script.

It's not like Disney won't play the sexy card when they choose. Their version of Rapunzel frustrated out of her mind was kinda hot, and the sisters in Frozen, and forties bad-girl Tink...

THAT NIGHT

There's a grand room in a fairytale palace where, long ago, a young princess was once dressed in a purple gown for a powerful ritual--investiture?--that changed history. That act imprinted on space-time so firmly that even now, generations later, if a girl around her age enters the ancient hall... anyone she meets acquires an overwhelming compulsion to dress her up in royal purple!

It's happening now to me--I'm being pushed to dress a modern kid in purple. More than pushed--enabled! The magic gives me a weird dressing-power. I can create violet silk, thread by thread, under my bare hand on her belly, out of my fingers, like I'm a spider wrapping a fly in... royalty? responsibility?

I find that a bit creepy. She seems more baffled by the spell--not delighted, not angry, just... whaaat?

I like this girl as she is, sneakers, T-shirt and all. I don't want to serve this spell--don't want to turn her into a Disney princess!

NOTES IN THE MORNING

• Girl in a royal court: Alice in Wonderland!
• Strange historical compulsion: my therapist theorized I'm youth-obsessed from having my own adolescence stolen--caught between flaky parents and the therapist they made me see, later convicted of multiple counts of child molesting: Ayres. The dream agrees the past haunts me--but I don't echo his abuse. Instead of a sexual compulsion, sex seems pushed aside by... something else!
• Spin silk with my hands: am I a sort of spider? Or I guiltily assume I must be a creepy predator--thanks, Dr. Ayres!
• Why history? Why purple? Before modern dyes, it was the color of power, privilege & responsibility. In my dreams it can also mean romanticism or sentimentalizing. Do I put women on a pedestal? But I could've dreamed that literally--it'd be surreal but clear. This is something else. What? Disneyfication?
• What is clear: thanks to my abusive therapist, I mistake a weird nonsexual compulsion for a sexual one. Possibly messing up my love life.
• ACTION: Figure this out. It matters. And it's subtle enough to have fooled me for decades!

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