Archive for August, 2011

August 26, 2011

not again…

I was sitting with his family. They welcomed me for some reason. Last I remember, they disliked me greatly. I was happy. Estatic even.  Warm.  At home.  The way I envisioned the future. The tall overgrown grass we were perched in swept over my shoulders as the breeze of twilight ensued. The Fireflies glowed a warm yellow. Pieces of my hair wisped around my face and got stuck in my eyelashes.  My cheeks were starting to hurt.  I was smiling too much. I pulled my knees up to my chest and buried my head in my arms. I felt my treses fall around my arms. “Keep this moment.” I whispered dearly to myself.
“Please. Please. Keep this moment.”  

I dont like dreaming. Never have. Never will.
I feel guilty, teased, played with, tugged on, strangled.
This illusion was not the reality….

It seeps in thru my slumber and its vision is so soft.
So sweet.
So real.
So everything that I wished it was.

Lucid dreaming comes without warning now. I practiced the techniques of dream control for years. and mastered it. Its a dirty scheme… figuring out and manipulating the deeper parts of your brain. It doesnt make you any smarter. It doesnt make you any more or less sane, cure mental disabilities, or distort youre ability to think logically or critically. But it does rip thru the seams of reality and unconsciousness and invades your memories. Dismembering them and throwing them to different ends of your unconscious world leaving you wandering. searching. needing them to be put back toether and doing anything it takes to do so.  Once you’ve learned to control your unconsciousness.. you lose dream control all together.  There is nothing more frightening then walking thru a dream, knowing your dreaming, knowing you have so much control that every  little thing you fear, dread, long for and think of… becomes.

Two years ago it was healing. I felt as tho, when it happened, that I was able satisfy the craving of yesterdays addiction. That I was able it sew the slices of my flesh back together. When it happened, I felt as tho I could tie my heart’s arteries shut, hold my breath, time warp, and evaporate into what it is…. or what I could make it.  That I was able to write a different ending.

But I’ve lost that.  After I buried my head in my arms, after I begged myself it keep the moment, after I pleaded to just stay in the dream… reality came. I looked up and knew that I was asleep. That this beautiful moment, this breathtaking feeling in my chest, the fireflies, the sun setting, his family…. was all just a dream. Sitting there in the grass, my heart sank. The sun turned into a ball of flaoting ash, his family turned on me, the grass scraped my shoulders… the fireflies stung. He came out from around the corner and sat next to me. I was paralized with fear. I knew who he was in reality and not the boychild of my dream. He moved my hair away from my face. I desparately tried to force my conscience back into the dream, but to no avail.

I lost control.

I was a ragdoll to his every emotion of hatred towards me, I was flung helplessly as each on of his hits came to my head, I could feel on my skin the pounding of his heart… the throbbing of his veins. I could feel in my bones the pure evil he had intended for me. I could feel the warmth of blood start to pour out of my ears, I closed my eyes and laid there in the grass, the same grass that, meer seconds ago, caressed me. welcomed me.  He laid ontop of me to keep me from moving. To keep me from trying to get away.  My hands were small against his ginormous god-like body. My defense was useless.  I struggled while he lashed out. Hit me. Cut me. Bit me.  He hated me so much.

I was awake for every second of it…. as I lay in my bed sleeping.

August 16, 2011

(piece me back together…)


 “My chest, like glass, shatters into hundreds of tiny shards, piercing its way into my muscles and organs…    then makes its way thru my skin, but not before shredding my memories.” 

  -Friend gave me a book.  A book, like friend, that I can’t read more than 3 pages at a time before getting sick and shutting down. My brain shuts off before I notice and about 20 sentences later I realize I wasnt actually reading the storyline, but just the words. [words. words. words.]  It isnt getting better and I wish for the things I remember to flood back into my world and thoughts…. the things that helped me stay afloat.

oh to be able to just float….

I miss the ability to whisper, “this is okay…” and actually believe myself.  I miss enjoying it. I miss not blaming myself or feeling quilty. I hate that all I do now is count… you know, I became good at math from all that counting…

Four more gone this morning. This is when I know I’ve switched off. When I’ve broke. When I’ve lost control. I’ve lost the battle when they just do what they want on their own. and flee.  I cant seem to stop them now. 


“My chest explodes like glass… and I cant control where the pieces fly or the damage they they will cause. All I can do is sit and wait for it to hurt, to embrace the pain, and then… to heal.”