Tag Archives: Nightmares

Dreamer’s Struggle—Reality or Fear?

4 Nov

My blood is pumping, my ears cannot distinguish between the sounds of screams, moans and yells, the mob is too much. Clusters of people are gathering around squishing, pushing, no hesitation, only panic.

I wake up. Dead air, silence, nothing.

I can go back in time,

I can rehearse the chaos,

Feel the hands, and fingers of hundreds poking at me,

grabbing,

what is this nightmare?
Is it a reality? A memory from before this life?

How can a dream feel so vivid, so real….so much like the crystallized snapshot,

only memories are capable of producing?

I close my eyes, the bed says sleep child, sleep.

Yet the child shivers,

And though my body is no longer small and weak,

Though my hands have grown,

And my knowledge of this world deepended,

The helplessness is still there,

The unknowing, that fear that is easy to push down,

Comes back up sometimes…

I tell myself it is not real…I am in control.

Sometimes though, when I have fought too much,

When my armor is off,

It is hard, it is a choice.

Let the fear consume me, I could just stay in my shell forever.

Or crush my teeth together, scream at this nameless evil,

And reach a state of happiness,

Hard to grasp,

But once I’m there—

The struggle makes sense,

The worth of happiness is stronger than the price of remaining nothing.

Lamentation & Nightmares

18 Jun

Nightmares are evil things

I’m not sure why the mind produces them

maybe to warn us

maybe to freak us out a little more

But I hate it…

 

I hate the memory

the blood and glass

the skin peeling off as if made of wax

 

 

Every time I wake up from this plaguing memory,

The dream, which is so vivid

so real that I feel like I was there again

and every time I want to scream

but I don’t

I want to cry

I want to do something that’s destructive

But I don’t.

Because the real and the unreal can’t mix

 

 

Only on paper

only in ink am I safe

the only place where I have control

is between the pen and my hand…

 

 

I only hope one day

these nightmare will end

I only hope that I can come to grips

with what happened

understand that it just did.

 

 

But a part of me

that scared

fearful part

wants it all to end

wishes that I had been the person who died that day.

 

 

But I didn’t.

 

 

I kept living,

It’s been over a decade.

Wow a decade that’s a long time.

And I still remember

probably never forget.

 

It’ll take some time

before I can distinguish

what these nightmares means

because right now

it’s still to fresh

and I’m still to weak

to human

to understand the difference between surviving

and living.