Dream, Dream, Dream

January 31, 2011
I close my eyes and drift off to sleep
Dreams could be good; they could be bad
They’re all in the back of my head
They’re what invades my mind and takes over my thoughts
They’re a summary of everything unknown
I am climbing my way up some sort of rope ladder. It seems old and worn out. But somehow I feel the rope is a good thing. There are other ladders like mine. As I climb, I notice the ladder leads into the clouds. I’m almost there. I’m going to the land of the clouds.
Sometimes I feel that my resting mind shares good dreams
That they help people
That they are showing the bright side of things
They are like angels coming down and easing my troubles
I dream, dream, dream.
I’m sitting in a dark room. A man walks up to me and screams words I don’t understand. I am strapped to a chair; I don’t talk to the man. He pushes a button, and I feel pain everywhere as if I am having a million tiny lightning bolts shot into my body.
Others aren’t that amazing
They see beauty in the evil of life and death
That they kill; not save
That they want me scared, miserable, and powerless

I close my eyes and drift off into sleep
And I dream, dream, dream.

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