The Rape Drawer

One minute I was being raped in a public bathroom and the next it was Thursday morning. Sunlight streamed through a slit in the curtains, and I kicked off the covers and stretched. It’s bizarre how normal that felt.

It was the casual way in which I woke up from a rape dream that set me in a mood for the day: a combination of detachment and hyper-awareness, and curiosity great enough to squash the sense of panic that should come from…