I've been awake since 3.30am.

My subconscience thought it would go through a walk through my memory drawers and haul out some of the stuff I'd rather it didn't.

This nasty little dream featured one particularly unpleasant ex who specialised in emotional terrorism and sleep deprivation which, when you're trying to hold down a job, can seriously mess you up. His physical violence wasn't calculated, it was explosive, childish and I do believe he didn't mean to cause the damage he did, it was more about punctuating a point in his tantrum. But hurting anyone is never acceptable.

I spent two months trying to work out why, two months in shock and the next six trying to get away. I logged every late-night door smashing episode with the police in case I needed a withstraining order. I ended up moving to a flat where he couldn't bang on the windows at 4.30am. Eventually finding my voicemail full of furious, drunken phone calls became a less frequent occurrance. He met someone else. Slowly it ground to a halt. I moved to another part of the city - just to make sure.

Three years later I ran into him in the street and he talked to me like I was an old friend - about ouse prices mostly. I played along and made my excuses and walked very quickly in the other direction.

It must have been six years ago now and yet his memory is so sharp and vivid and the dream so typical of him (apart from the crucifying my cat on my front door - that really wasn't his style) that I am completely freaked out.

But it is just a dream. He is gone and it has stopped.

I thought about not writing about this. I thought about keeping this 'friend's only' but I don't need someone to tell me everything's going to be all right. I know it is. It is already.

This particular little nightmare has been over for me for a long time. But domestic violence is a living nightmare for hundreds of thousands of women, children and men and I really don't think it does us any good not talking about it publically.

I grew up being told washing your dirty linen in public is shameful. But if my dirty linen makes anyone think twice about why they are living with someone who makes their life a misery then that has to be a good thing.