All the dreams in Anna Blair’s Visitors are real. I just had another one last night where Gerard Butler and I were together, and I got upset with something he did or said, so he went somewhere and came back, telling me we were going to Scotland on November 1st. Then he kissed my hand, and I knew he loved me and I loved him. It was amazing.
And I wonder why do I have dreams about actors? Is it because the statutory rape when I was sixteen had a lifelong effect on me?
The actor was 31, I was 16. He had recently been on a television series so he was very well known back then. My mother and sister did drop me off. I’m sure my mother never imagined what would transpire.
The actor took me to his bank, and a health food store where his photo was up on the wall among others, like Paul Newman and Al Pacino. We went back to his place. I sat in the living room on the couch. He went in the bedroom. When I looked up he was in a towel and was waving me into the room. I was more than naive, more than a virgin. My parents had never taught me anything about sex. Because even back then I had PTSD, I moved in a fog. Everything seemed numb. It blocked my ability to discern what boundaries were, what I didn’t have to allow.
I went in his bedroom and we lay down on his bed. He told me to touch his chest and then made a comment that I was like a robot. He moved on top of me and I said “no.” He lay back down, said “so near, yet so far away.” Then I felt bad and said “okay.”
After that incident, I was never the same. I had plastic surgery to be prettier. I only went after extremely good looking guys. I went for virgins. I thought, if I could get that guy, I could get anybody.
The actor took away my innocence, the rest of my growing up years, he took away reality. I was already messed up since kindergarten, so this just exacerbated my illness.
I thought for a long time how cool it was that this had happened. I certainly didn’t see it as a rape. Not until a counselor just a little over a year ago told me I had been. It was a shock to me. To see how delayed everything is in my life. Years after the event, I finally realize what had happened.
I even went to see him two or three more times before I was 23. We had sex, but it was meaningless. Then he told me he was married and his wife knew who I was so if I called, she’d know me. WTF?
After the first time, he did a photo shoot in a nudie magazine with some young beautiful model. I was jealous and hurt. And he was quoted as saying he never met a virgin he didn’t like. How cold, and cruel is that?
So the only thing I can figure is that I have dreams about actors because I had one once. It somehow makes it possible with others. And because I’ve lived on those movies, those romantic ones where everyone else seems to experience love but me. Of course I know there are others who can’t seem to connect with someone, but for me, the only way I can feel that love, that closeness, is by watching a romantic movie. And it makes my heart ache with loneliness.