nunoncastors

I dream seldom, I’ve mentioned this before. When I do dream they’re never pleasant. I’ve never woken up screaming as people a wont to do in books and films; I have woken out of breath and in a cold sweat however. I’ve also woken up to find myself on the edge of tears once or twice. I suppose that this points to some deep-seated issues that I am concealing from myself and they’re festering away causing my subconscious to blah, blah, blah, thanks very much Herr Freud. On these occasions my unease is such that I almost welcome the fact that I don’t dream regularly or at least don’t recall.

Last night I watched, was forced to watch, all of my friends butchered before my eyes. I could have stopped it but first I had to admit to something. Something I didn’t understand. I would have admitted to anything, anything at all. I would have traded places in an instant but that wasn’t what they wanted. They wanted an admission and nothing I offered was right. So one after the other they died. They died and died and died.

Everyone died.

The world died.

I woke up curled into a ball and drenched in sweat. I have no idea what it was all about, I don’t wish to find out. Dreams are supposed to be about nice things aren’t they?