Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Stupid Dreams and their Dangers

What always hit me first, was the fear. Of what, or why, I didn't register. Only the heart stopping fear that enveloped my soul and crushed my heart as I ran and ran and ran. I was in my own house. Of that much I always felt certain. It looked nothing like my house, and some parts of my dreamland would be impossible to replicate in real life, but if I just tilted my head and squinted through my dream sweat I could always tell. I was definitely in my own house. The Living room had become a sort of field area, covered in tall grass and dandelions, the kind children pluck and give to their friends. The kind of plant recognized as weeds in the adults' eyes. Then the dining room, in contrast to the field, was a marsh. The kind from story books, where you could do nothing but expect a princess to wander by and turn a frog into a prince. A marsh filled with bugs and other fascinating, small things of beauty. Then the kitchen. Our narrow and stuffed kitchen had been turned into nothing spectacular. Just a rope bridge. Crossing over who knows what. But I barely ever noticed the house and all its changes. I mostly felt the fear. I was always running. Always. I was always running away. But I never once looked back to see what I was running from. All I knew, was the fear. I ran in a continuous circle. Feild. Marsh. Bridge. Feild. Marsh. Bridge. Again and again. I never got farther away. It never got closer to me. And then suddenly, I had wings. Or rather I already had wings, I just remembered that I could use them. Something in me seemed to know that if I took off I'd be free. The thing would stop chasing me. But something held me back. I would lose something. But that something was just as eluding as whatever it was. So I took the jump. I unfurled my wings and then... I remembered. What I remembered was always different. Or maybe it wasn't. I never remembered what I remembered. Just that I did. Remeber that is. But whatever it was was important. and the wings would disappear. Or maybe they just wouldn't work any longer. either way I would end up falling. Down into whatever was under the bridge. And I would lose everything the second I reached the bottom. But I never reached the bottom. Never.


I woke up.

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