the dreams have been coming again.
I get these flashes of them during the day time. misremembered memories. people that don't exist, or don't exist in the real world the way they do when I'm asleep. there's a cadence to these dreams. there's a rhythm. a melody. I hear it humming in the back of mind as I go about my day. I feel it thrumming, gently beating itself against the hollows of my brain. my hallowed brain.
I feel these people that I don't know, and these places I haven't been. I feel the secret rooms and passages I long to explore. the spider webs and crumbling walls. the slight smell of mildew. I find a fountain via balcony. I find books. I am alone.
I always want to write about it, about this dream world. about my dream self. all the feelings, and people, and places. my house that isn't, the friends that aren't, countless things that don't really exist. but they slide from me like water off grease. the tiny droplets sing of something that I can't entirely capture. I miss that place. I miss it, and I fear it, because of the times when I wanted to entirely live it (by not living).
I haven't been suicidal in a while and it feels really good.
I was in a good mood all day today and it worried me. it's been so very long since I haven't felt the crushing weight of constant stress that I wasn't sure what was happening. it felt so good to be unfettered. or at least less fettered.
there is still a road ahead of me with many bumps and obstacles.
my dreams are less of an escape than they used to be.
my real escaping is coming soon.
I wonder what I'll dream of then?
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