Thursday, April 13, 2006

A Fear of Dreams

I'm dreaming again. Real honest to God dreams. Not the prophetic images of the mundane future, no Signposts. Just...dreams. Which might explain my seeming abject refusal to sleep. I don't like these dreams. They're to potent. Hopeful. And ultimately painful. Oh sure, while I'm in them, I'm taken back to a less...complicated...time. Old wants played forth in a fairy tale world. And I smile. Just in time for it to whisk away in a cloud and I am left alone and bitter, a slight taste of bile in the back of my throat. I thought I left these dreams in my old hometown. I could have sworn that I had finally accepted the reality of things. I'd really much rather my subconscious, which was so laborious in it's attempts to remind me of reality when I believed in these dreams, would pick a story and stick to it. I don't need or want these dreams anymore. It's hard enough living my life without the added weight of hoping for the impossible. My heart's just not strong enough these days. I'm too set in my ways, too aware of the truth, and too afraid to defy it. But who could I tell these dreams to? Who would understand? Most would scoff, and tell me I'm a fool for these dreams. Well meaning, yes, but I know the fool better than anyone. And I don't ask for the dreams. Or better yet, let me tell her about them so I can pick at the wounds that are just starting to heal. Yeah, you know, the ones I made? Yes, that'd be brilliant. Oh! Or better yet! Allow myself to fall into hypocrisy! "Hey, yeah, just wanted to call after not calling you for months because you never return phone messages to anyone, really, to say I've been having dreams about you again!" And immediately, I become that creepy, awkward 17 year old wuss-monger I used to be in High School. Yeah. That's a brilliant plan. It all is.

See?! THIS is why I hate these dreams. Make me think a bunch of really stupid crap. Hate it.

there must be an angel...

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