I never asked to be one, never wanted it.
Again, I awoke gasping for air, tears threatening to jump from my eyes because of the frightening images that came with my sleep.
Sleep, I scoffed mentally, it was anything but that. Sleep was a state of resting, bliss.
I was a dreamer, I was given no rest from my own mind.
If only the dreams could be brighter, I thought, not of death and fear. Protection from the images wasn't an option--my mind wandered where it found necessary or interesting. Too much curiosity stormed there. And it wasn't ever enough for me.
Most everyone who heard the stories of them thought they were incredible. Creepy, but incredible all the same. It's a wonder to me why they would think so; if they only knew how much trouble they caused...how much contention and pure fear was stirring up inside myself. It was nearly impossible to escape.
I wasn't even sure if I lived in reality anymore. Nothing seemed real to me. Everything was too good to be true.
And I thought no one would ever be able to understand.
No comments:
Post a Comment