Dreams

I am a fool for dreams. I am utterly and completely obsessed and in love with dreams.

Dreams are like a comfortable dress, they are laces of wavy soft fabric stitched onto my mind. My dreams are like cloths of different colours layered one after the other making it very flowy and intricate.

They are like a hot air balloon that I hop on to so that I could see the magic of the land above.

I hold on to them and they let me fly into a world that is filled with fantasy.

Dreams are both a curse and boon, sometimes you can chase after these dreams hoping they might turn true eventually or you could just chase them and live in the fantasy and not accept the truth or you could just quit it all and move on to the next dream.

I have dreams, I like to dream. It’s like being in a movie when I am asleep, or going off to a different universe where time works differently altogether. It’s a nice concept.

There are new and familiar faces in my dreams and there are new, horrifying, creative, passionate and unique stories out there that are waiting to be played as soon I go to sleep.

However there are some dreams that often have the same theme going on and on over again. Why? I guess it’s your mind and heart telling your deepest desires and knowing myself, I guess my dreams are the only method to work those out without any complications and repercussion.

Sometimes I do talk and have these cries and screams in my dreams. These are the signs of my nightmares. In very few instances, I do remember my nightmares but many of the times I possibly cannot remember what caused my terrors during my sleep. I seem to wake up without any recollection of what happens. There are times when I am aware of the fact that I have cried and screamed but the others, I am not. I am only aware of it when someone comments about it which then catches me off guard because I can never remember what I dreamed about.

Then there are these dreams that only happen once but they seem too real and you start to question if these dreams are memories supressed down that are now resurfacing up. These type of dreams are the ones where I can’t distinguish whether it was reality or just a dream.

Then those dreams happen where everything is heartbreakingly beautiful and perfect. The story in these dreams are seducing and alluring. The details are perfect and you remember everything even after days and months. You couldn’t be more satisfied but you wish for a continuation because either you were woken up abruptly or you just want a continuation to this story, to see what lies more.

It is an agony being awake after dreaming of it. You would and will want to do anything to go back to them.

So one tries anything, and I mean anything. I have tried to recreate the same scenario by imagining every detail as it was with nothing changed. I imagine the ending in my mind and then try to convince my mind to somehow incooproate this into the continuation of my unfinished dream, but it has never once worked. I always land up with a different dream instead.

I have also come up with various ways on how it would end or how I could continue it without dreaming but none of it as good as dreaming it.

Those good dreams, I feel they are a privilege that has to be earned.

Don’t you ever wish there was a machine to capture all these dreams that you dream of and then you can watch them later like a movie or be able to dream of the continuation in your next sleep?

Why does one dream? Is it a way to indulge into fantasies that reality cannot deem to offer? Are our dreams the actual lives that we live, when we dream, we go to that world and we live our orignal life and the life that we lead when awake is sort of a stimulation run by someone else?

Or are dreams a sort of drug injected in us by aliens, by humans or by any other creature as sort of an experimentation or do they need us to be in heavy slumber and dream so that they do something to us or the world without our knowings?

An other theory of my dreams are that these unknown faces that I dream of, what if they are actual human beings and we all are somehow being put in the same dream by a force. I see my side of the story and they see thiers, what if we are meant to connect all the peices of the story and the dream to find something?

Why are our dreams being interrupted? Is it because we are capable or on the verge of finding something that is not meant to be found?

How do we know that these lives that we lead now are also dreams? I have a theory that this life what I lead, these people I know, these expereinces I am going through are something that has happened in the past or a sort of stimualtion. When in reality, I am in a choma dreaming of all this.

I end all of this now. I depart off to an other world, to another time to dream and you might find me writing my stories there.

Until next time.