I had no intention of writing to this prompt. I have to go to work soon, I have a lot of cleaning to do, and I’m very behind on reading others’ blogs. But when I sat down at my desk, I couldn’t help it.
This is part of something I wrote in November, and it still rings completely true.
“Dreams. I despise them.
I despise the feeling of waking in the dark, grasping breathlessly for reality, unable to comprehend whether what just happened, happened.
Nightmares – the ghosts and fire and evil countenances that weave themselves throughout your subconscious – are dreadful. Everything is suddenly more frightening; even the rustle of your own bedsheets … is enough to make you jump.
But the good dreams, oh, the good dreams are the worst. Because you believe they really might be possible. You awake with the scent of hopefulness hovering in the air and happiness engulfing your heart and just for a moment everything might be okay. But then his arms around you slip away or your childhood laughter fades into the sound of traffic on the street outside and all you are left with is the empty desire for something you’ll never have.”
My dislike of dreams is a frequent theme in my writing, and I wish more than anything I could sleep dreamlessly. The prompt asks us to recount a “good” dream – I’d love to, but I try to forget them as soon as possible.
When I’m not doing well or not sleeping enough is when it’s the worst. I have painfully vivid dreams, and they start to blend in with my reality. Did I say that to him? Did that happen? Do I need to do something about that? I wake up disoriented, and if something particularly … interesting, for lack of a better word … happened, I carry it around with me all day.
That’s all I have to say for now, because I need to do my makeup. I used to enjoy dreaming, but these days it’s just too much. Sorry, Daily Post
“It’s said, that those who don’t sleep confuse reality with a dream.”