The ghosts behind reality

What would you say your dreams accounted for? Do you really sweat through the sheets when having a nightmare, or smile freshly when you find your paradise? I doubt.

Transition to dreaming has been the most weird thing for me. Nineteen years I was able to spend with no anguish in my escapades. It was sleep – pure and blissful. And then an entire cycle of daunting started.

Early in the midsummer heat were strokes not brought by absence of electricity

A fan buzzed to lull me to sleep, the ceiling curled with an toxicity

Situations in life that blacked me out with emblems of fear seeping in

I swear, caffeine overload is desirable over this nasty spell of dreamin’

Yesterday was a lady in the bathroom sitting over her own pee and writhing

Faced downwards her eyes pierced through, the bath felt the chill

Unacknowledged, that very fleshless hand shook out to steal whats mine

And I heard cracks down her skeleton my power got, her eyes turned to a carbine

A terrible dread encompassing all with what I kept sacred

But there it was: a dream of horrid realities and vast graves

Today was worse with train seats that sweat, none too close to a breeze

A man, unloving, I questioned of love, and in reply inhaled disease

Betrayal speaks no language beyond the fear already clouded in

‘Suspicious?’, God, no, only aghast of mortal sin

A terror that I’ve witnessed in action through my dreams – horrifying more often than not – is that through it all, I can actually read my own face in reaction to the information around me. The devastation apparent is so dreaded that it doesn’t wake me up with vapours of sweat on my pillow, but it fills me with so negative a vibe as to some twisted truth emerging from those very visuals.

Knowledge that I’ve gained through my very basic understanding of Psychology is that dream interpretation has vast scope, and holds sincerity. This is a subjective approach, for dreams that I face are the trepidations of my own belongings in sanity.

So it’s very clear: the apprehensions of situational existence produces suppressed emotions and reactions as dreams in those very moments.

I’ve attempted to converse to unleash monsters of repressed thought, but it just builds up my frustration over the uncontrollability of the entire episode.

The question now remains: how do I strengthen myself against powers I’m sending to destroy myself?

 

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