Dream Journal: 2016-10-14.01

Dear Subconscious,

If given the choice again between dreaming of being covered with snakes or covered with roaches, please choose the snakes. Roach feet are prickly.

This Bitch

I almost titled this Bitching Journal, but that would mean renaming nearly every post already up to that moniker. But really though. Fuck roaches.

Dream Journal: 2016-10-11.01

He poured the tea with deliberate slowness. The laminar flow of tea into the cup contrasted neatly with the gentle swirls rolling the surface of the tea in the cup. Both motions were framed expertly by the stillness of the cup itself and the placement of the spoon beside the saucer.

He waited for the surface of the tea to settle before breaking my attention away with a silent offer of declined sugar.

“Why are you here?” Continue reading Dream Journal: 2016-10-11.01

Dream Journal: 2016-09-30.01

I dreamt…

Of cruel gods and crueler intentions.
Of misery extended by acts of kindness.
And understanding withheld lest the heart fails completely.

I dreamt…

Of game pieces held in place against inertia.
Of webs pulling trapped limbs in unnatural bends.
And the silencing of the fervent prayer lest the game ends prematurely.

I dreamt…

Of the inhumane weeping at the inhumanity.
Of the ignorance that will never be filled.
And the hand seizing mine from widening the bleeding hole in my heart.

I screamed.

Dream Journal: 2016-09-26.01

“I need you to trust me.”

Oh shit. Like that ever ended with anything I didn’t regret. I just grunted at him in response.

“I need a vessel and a catalyst. You’re both.”

Less grunting and more growling. I didn’t like his implication.

“It will be the worse for them if you don’t help. It will be only a minor amount and length of discomfort for you if you do. But you know what pressures are on them.”

“I won’t save them from themselves.”

“I’m not asking that.”

“What are you asking?”

“That you not be duplicated.”

That kept me from swinging at him even though I knew he could move as fast as thought. “I’ll think about it.”

I woke up with my tongue severely bitten again. I need to stop thinking about these things.

Dream Journal: 2016-09-20.01

Because there’s no better sensation than being held down by an unknown force in a pitch black room while your soul/spirit is being pulled out of your body through the crown of your head, right?

What do you mean cause for alarm? I still have another half-dozen soul pieces left.

Seriously, though. Fuck my dreams. Just… Fuck.