Really?

This post is stemming from sheer frustration. I can never write at a normal fucking time. Really though, look back. I dare you to- all these times are ridiculous. It looks like I never sleep, or that I am extremely troubled in that department. I am not so much an insomniac as I used to be. It will consume me from time to time, it all depends on my stress level. I have just had my second nightmare of the night. I hate them, they can kiss my ass. I have been sleeping peacefully (for once) for the last few months. Well perhaps not months, but longer than I am used to. How dare my overactive imagination take hold of me like this. Bastard! I just want to sleep, I am so exhausted. I know I am going to feel like shit in the morning, but I have to stay up to rid myself of the horror my mind has created. Nothing of any significance even happen in the dream, all I know is that it was horrible. I lucid dream to top it off. I never dream without knowing I am dreaming. It isn't that cool, not when you cannot clearly make conscious decisions. I get extremely curious when I am in "dreamland", even when I know it will end badly, I keeping walking to that door, keeping driving into the darkness, just to see what the fuck is up. It is always horrific, and I always find myself there, and I wake up scared, pissed, upset everything. Now I am hungry from wasting all my energy exploring the desolate hills behind my house- in dreamland that is. Fuck! Perhaps it is stemming from the novel I am reading. It would happen, but I don't wish to cease reading it. It is far too good. I have had to do this before. I hate my mind sometimes. I have been this way since I was little. I don't think much of anything when it first happens, I am one to indulge in anything I get my hands on. No matter what, it usually ends up lingering in my mind, causing me no sleep or nightmares. I hate it. I just want to fall back into a sleep, but I am honestly scared to close my eyes. I don't want to be in that darkness. I only ever enter into that darkness only to walk myself into an even darker place. How can the blackness of thought get any darker? It can, it really can. Think long enough and deep enough and odd things start arising. Things you never knew could exist. They don't but they are ever so tangible in your atmospheric dream wonderland. This place has no limits, no breaking point. Only you possess that flaw. Your dreams take form and become something, something you never intended to happen. You have conceived a monster, a literal powerhouse of evil. It used to be a white rabbit, you turned that rabbit into its purest thought. The sheer beginning of a rabbit, its soul. It has a tangible soul. Yes this is happening, you see it. You watch this innocence transform into something horrific. Right there, you feel like you are awake, but you are far from it, you watch it morph. Getting gaunt, bloody and transparent. A rabbit? You think this to yourself, your mind is fully aware of what is happening, but your body- stone. You can not escape this image. Something so simple, a little white bunny, it's soul, your horror. Something so sweet turned so sour. You keep watching as the once pure creature changes, rapidly. What the fuck is going on? You stare in amazement, you are intrigued, yet you know what it to come. This thing, this bunny is changing, you know it is changing. Something so pure should never take on such a form. It is no longer a child longed pet. It is a gruesome hell bound creature and it is coming toward you. It is tangible so you fret, yet you stand there watching it come at you. It changes again, taking on what you fear most, anything no matter how irrelevant, but it is coming. You stand in the darkness of your own thought watching it come towards you. The fear never registers until it hits you. Runs through you at an alarming rate, you shudder and wake up. You try not to recall the image, or anything that just happened, but it is still there, taunting you. You think you see it- you are awake- how could this be happening? You sit awake, you breathe, you sweat. Dreams like this- so simple, so bizarre, what are the points of them. They mean so much to me, yet they mean nothing and make no sense. They send me into fits of wonder and irritant rambles. I want to find out the meanings they hold, but I know the mind is far to complex to even chip or dent the fortress that it is. It boggles me, I hate it, this is why I am up at night. It makes sense, these dreams- They might just be a way for me to test myself, for me to pick at my own mind. Regardless, they are ridiculously tangible, and I just want to reach out and do something about them, but I know I can't. I stand in my dreams and stare at my hands, knowing nothing is going to happen if I swing, or run. I can only walk towards the object that is taunting me, even though I don't want to I always do.

Goddamn dreamland and all your wacky fucking scary as shit nonsense.





I need that sleep, let me have that sleep.