Sweet Dreams This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

November 27, 2011
They say dreaming is nothing but honest to God pre-planning. I always wish they weren’t right. When I dream, I lose track of thoughts and truth, and once that happens, I can’t keep hold of what’s a dream and what’s really happening.

When I was six, I dreamed I was me, three years old, laying on that beige carpet again, wishing I was all alone. It was my time on a highlight reel, replaying the best awful moments of my life, in slow motion and high definition. I dreamed it all like it wasn’t even a dream, like I was in that moment squirming and hurting again with my eyes closed tight as ever.

Every night that year I dreamed it the same. I tormented myself, laughing and giggling long after my teeth were dry and thirsty. I saw it all with my eyes wide open matching both of our legs. That dream was so long. It was exhausting and it was so sore. I woke up with your sweat dripped on my face and my insides stretched out real loose. I woke up on the floor with my bare skin stuck to the fibers of the rug.

When I grew up some years, I dreamed I was me, in real life timing. It could have been just fine, except I had to watch it all happen myself, behind some kind of glass, like a lobster in a deep cold tank waiting to get cooked at a fancy restaurant. I always wonder if those lobsters know how their nights are going to end. Anyway, all I could do was watch and cry and hate me. I didn’t wake up sweating or crying like a person would expect. I woke up exactly how I fell asleep, not having moved a single muscle or memory.

The night after that I dreamed I never fell asleep, that I just layed on my bed with my eyes wide shut, pretending while the minutes squeezed their way by. I dreamed the sun never came back up and no one ever came back awake. My eyes never opened, my eyes never closed, and it was the happiest dream I remember.

The next day I dreamed that I lived forever. The worst part is, I have no idea what forever is. So in that dream, time and life and days just kept looping back over themselves, until I was left slumped back at the beginning. In that dream I closed my eyes and prayed to God that I’d wake up holding hands with you in Hell.

Join the Discussion

This article has 1 comment. Post your own now!

janejoyce said...
Dec. 26, 2011 at 10:25 pm
I would really appreciate any comments or thoughts! Thanks!
Site Feedback