Nightmares

This work as a whole is titled Nightmares of the Lucid Dreamer. It’s a funny thing you know, giving this a title, it’s really just a collection of random thoughts, chains of consciousness, all that bullshit that floats through my mind like swirling garbage out at sea. I chose to write this piece as a weak justification for the title of my thoughts. Lucid dreaming is when we realize we are dreaming and then gain control over our dreams. My brother says the best way to tell if your dreaming is if you can change the lights, they say that when you’re dreaming you can’t change the light which is why he says just every now and then if you think you’re dreaming or not to flick the switch. Some kids are really good at math, some have a natural ability in athletics or arts or even writing, I’ve always been a dreamer. Always preferring sleep over just about anything, you see I always seem to dream and the adventures of my subconscious are always unrivaled by the truth of my reality. When I was younger they called me the California kid, I never really understood that, they called me that because in class if I was ever to finish my work early I would sleep and dream. I truly have no greater desire than to sleep, to dream, but the “real” world constantly plagues me in my awakened state. I suppose this is why whenever I am aware of my dreaming and I enter into a state of lucidity it is reality that haunts me. It is the guilt of my dreaming, my need to escape, that casts nightmares. Although I seem to be getting better at ridding myself of the burdens of reality, when I was younger any realization of my existence in my dream world would cause me to picture the truest horrors. I remember imagining myself locked in a sort of ride that moved slowly along tracks, each time I rounded a corner I would imagine the most terrifying thing I could think of. From three little pigs eating human flesh to being consumed by ants while trying to awaken myself, to the immortal monster who seemed the embodiment of fear and killed ruthlessly and mercilessly the loved ones around me. I have always seemed to choose to put myself through hell whenever I am given the opportunity. I have no idea why I do this. Perhaps to me the knowledge that I am dreaming, the truth that there is a “reality” is my nightmare. Thus when I am aware I am dreaming the horror of reality infiltrates my sanctuary and causes me the greatest feelings of fear and sickness. Reality is my nightmare.