Dream-Life...Life-Dream.

I wake up with a start. Phew, it was only a dream, I tell myself as I make my way to the kitchen for a mid-night snack. I tried to remember how I could possibly fall asleep studying for the biggest test of my life on the very next day, but shortly shove the thoughts out of my mind. I shrug; tests aren't the most important thing in life, and more importantly, they do not have the capability to measure a person's intelligence or ability to achieve success in life--at least, not in my definition of success.

 

I open the refrigerator door and the cold air drafts, enveloping me as goosebumps begin to form all over my body. I ignore it, and reach for the milk; but just as my fingers close on the handle of it, I fall to the floor with a BAM, enough noise to overwhelm my cries of desparation, struggle to maintain sanity, longing. Of course no one in my family could hear such noises in the first place--they had all already become deaf to my personal struggles. Either that or I hid it from them so well.

 

Around me, puddles of salty-wet substance began to take shape. The tears wouldn't stop--and I wasn't prepared for the upcoming flood.

 

My mind raced back to my dreams, the imaginations my mind projected to me as I was what earthly people call "asleep". My dreams which were realer to me than even life itself anymore. Yet, I seemed to be searching for some unrecorded memories, for as my mind raced and I continued looking inward for the alive feeling my dreams brought to me, I only was further and further away from what I was seeking.

 

I began to panic-for I could not remember my dreams: no memories of how he had (in my dreams) came to me that dark, stormy night when all I would've asked for was him, no recollection of the happiness I experienced on occasion when I remembered the piercing, perceptive gaze in his everchanging eyes, nothing.

 

I pulled myself up so I was on my hands and knees, barely able to crawl back into my bed and curl up into a ball. Alas, no matter how much I hugged myself, I wasn't able to achieve that security I needed to fall back asleep, into another dream with no certain outcome--or purpose, into a dream where the simple imaginative adrenaline rush made me feel alive, where I could live out my fantasies in peace and serenity, where I could just Be.

 

I shivered, both from the cold I felt in my heart and from the thermostat set at 62 degrees Fahrenheit (another act of my perceptible family), not even the thick wool blanket enough to keep me warm. I was chilled to the bone.

 

At that moment I made a vow. I would write down my dreams, maybe in hope of feeling alive in the distant future in a little place, foreign to many, called Reality.

Reviews

[Amethy]

instance, exciting, and with an unknowing message that only the reader can image. just like poetry u never know the meaning of what the writer is saying unless u ask. though i would give little hits about the dream,
like small flash backs, or a more fear feeling then an insane feeling. show how she goes on and about with this dream hanging over her head.
i no it's not really a good review but it my opinion on what you could do. But you can chose if you would like to work with it.