Dreams

There is no end to the scab on an infinite wound, closure is a mirage. I’ve had my lense distorted by demonic influences that posed as my closest caregivers. We have so much to say and if you are willing to listen even for a second we are eternally greatful. Being able to communicate and feel the love reciprocated even by ourselves is an eternal blessing. The desolate themes I have faced in my life show up in dreams as archetypes of chaos and malignancy. I dream of egregores created by refracted distortions of my own self perception, egregores of my perception of others, and egregores of how I perceive my environment. A dream type I often find myself in is that of an apocalyptic setting that morphs as I run through it. I tend to be running from an enemy that changes depending on the environment shifting. I have had other magic users intercept my dreams and either provide constructive signs of my spiritual progress or they have malicious intent and attempt to torment me. I have dreamt of the witch that haunts a house. Years ago I thought I dreamed of a higher demon or the devil but now I’m sure that it was the gatekeeper of my trauma warning me of the pain I will endure if I push myself too quickly through processing my past. There is a phenomenon in dreams akin to a fourth wall break where a dream entity will feel radically more real than the rest of the dream. Everytime I wake up after one of these encounters it leaves me thinking about what the entity was trying to tell me and what importance it has. on the life I lived before now. I dream of being suicidal.

In dreams my screams are muffled by gauze. In dreams I watch as everyone moves on from who I once was, I watch from the other side. What is a good dream? Is it the dreams where an old woman flies from the shadows and violates me? Is it the dreams where a I’m trapped in an infinite loop of grade school or high school or college? Was I supposed to dream of the void as a kindergartner? Are you dreams supposed to have the exact same mundane sickening rhythm as systematic torture? I scream with my full body, I cry with my full body. I want him to go away, I don’t want him to touch me. I want him to leave so badly. Why does he never leave? Last night I dreamed of my Mom and you don’t even want to know about that one. My father was a sleep paralysis demon. Doors open in front of me and an imp jumps out onto my chest. Massive birthday balloons pop and reveal big slimy beetles that look for a host to lay eggs in. My legs are stuck in tar, I’m slipping into a coma. A massive eye stares at me through the window of the tiny little house no-one wanted to come to. They told me it was because of the size of the house but I know something different. I know the elephant in the room we became well acquainted long ago. Learned helplessness is reinforced helplessness. It’s taught by someone. What someone did you have? My Father’s severed head floating next to me, I can’t scream. Slipping into a dream into a coma into a dream into a coma into a sleep that eludes me. A shark jumps on my chest and I wake up to my own scream, I’m covered in sweat. My pet dragon dies and I wake up crying. I beg them to stop, I beg them for an answer, I wake up crying. I am being chased and no amount of stabbing will stop him from moving forward, I wake up empty. How much did they take from me? I look at the empty spaces of flesh and take inventory of what I need to graft and where I need to graft it from. Dreams of a shifting apocalypse that adapts to my tenacity. Dreams of being naked in public, being exposed. Dreams of a gatekeeper who warns me of what the deepest crevices of my mind holds by triggering incomprehensible pain and loss sensations in my soul. Dreams of witches, some malicious some helpful. Dream atrocities.