dreamland

sad, really, why?  I keep having these dreams that cause me to revisit all the temptations of my past.  All the bad feelings and memories that I worked so hard to bury for the sake of my happiness are coming back up.  through my dreams they find refuge in my mind.  last night my dreams where just, too real.  it was like i was taking forgoten memories and creating new ones with the people i love.  Is loving someone a bad thing?  Why does my love for others hurt the one im with so much, then again I dont blame her I would feel the same too, probably worse.  But i just cant control it, I try and I try to forget but I cant because of these damn dreams.

Fire

As smoke filled up my house, my lungs, my eyes.  I became frozen, crippled even.
I was scared, no terrified.  alone .
there was no before or after, just that moment, that single fragment of time frozen and separated.
I feared death, I knew I was trapped.  As I approached the doorway, contemplating my chance of escape. I just couldn't move, I wasn't ready to die yet.  

Tortured Memories

I find myself in a palace by the sea.  It is night time, the waves are crashing into the shore.  This place feels so small yet so endless.  Like if I was trapped in an infinite exploration.  I had company.  There were two beautiful woman with me.  One who was close to me in my every day walk of this world, the other, was a distant memory of what was in the past.  The one who belonged to me started to drift away from me, she started to prioritize our time together to herself.  I became lonely in this golden castle of lost emotions.  Then something odd happened, the woman who was lost in my minds memories had found the man who was lost in his life.  We came together and went swimming in the endless black ocean.  We got back to the palace to dry up with our towels in the bed.  As we sat in the main chambers and traded conversation, she asked me something. She asked me if I could touch her bare shoulders, help her relax, massage the stress and anxiety away.  So I did.  We got closer and closer, my hands touching her soft perfect skin.  Then we started to kiss.  More and more passionately it got.  We made love in a world with no stars.  Then my other love found out, she told her.  We were done, ended.  I felt ashamed, embarrassed, scared.  They then came to me together scared as well.  They told me demons were coming.  That we needed to go.  I've never have been scared of demons, but I ran with them away, for them, and nothing else.  I felt the need to protect the woman that I love.  So off into the dark we ran, all the way through the palace until everything just faded away.

A Man with a Mask

People wear masks.  I wear a mask.

I wear it so often, sometimes, I doubt I even have a face anymore.

My mask hides my loneliness, my depression,, my fears, and my wants.

I truly live in a world in my head, but then, what kind of world am I living out there?

Starting to think that masks are evil.  They were meant to break down our very own essence of spirit to a point we were we waste away behind a curtain.  I had a dream once about a man with a mask who lived on the other side of my wall.  He was far better than me in any way possible.  He was dressed for some kind of occasion, a ball/Venetian ceremony type event.  Red currents opened way as I watched the man through this vision.  He was everything that I was not.  He wore a black tuxedo of the highest value, and his mask was so elegant, so sophisticated in design and form that I couldn't help but marvel at it.  He was fixing his tie in the mirror, so happy, so full of life.  I was at one end sick, injured, barely able to stay conscious while he was at peak perfection.  I realized that the entire time I had been watching myself.  I was the man with the mask.  It killed me a little, that's what masks do.  Some people live all their lives with their happy masks on, then someday someone or something takes it, and you never become the same.  To wear a mask and not even know it.  I've lied to myself so many times about what makes me happy that I don;t even know any more.  I couldn't tell you if you asked.  Who am I without the mask?  My mind is struggling to create a sort of safe heaven for my will and spirit to recuperate.  It could be a room in my house, it could be a certain spot that I hold memories of past close by.  It's trying to designate somewhere where I will feel safe and secure at all times.  Obviously, since I can notice whats going then its not working.  People must do it all the time.  I guess you can call it a "security blanket" of sorts.  You know like when you were a kid and you seek protection under a quilt or sheet of some sort.  To many of life's realities are hitting me hard.  The only thing Masks accomplish is making the time go by.  To bad time is irrelevant because whatever is anything in life is going to be will just be the essence of whatever destined of it.  Time is a measurement of thoughts spread across a span of existence.  Like the things we tell ourselves, time is a lie.  In all reality, I will probably never be that man I saw on the other side of the wall.  I will only embrace his fallacy, his ideas, his shame, but never his image for it is only the deception of the mask he wears.  just like the fake images we come into contact with everyday as we walk down the street, as we greet our loved ones, as we look in the mirror.  The mask will always be more familiar than the skin.

Black Haired Woman

My dreams are tools of torture to destroy me and any hope of continuing life.  In this dream she wanted me, in life she never loved me.  Dreams are are so real.  Its not fair. Tortured through your own nightly experience.  If you took witness,no, actually lived out some of your greatest wishes for just a moment knowing that they will never come true, wouldn't you go insane?  Life is full of meaningless disappointments.  Are these dreams supposed to be there to encourage me? The actions i would have to perform are disgusting and vile in nature. Do I continue on to the road with out end?
I'm losing all sight, all senses, I am now blind.
Wandering through the dark.
Forever searching for light.

Conclusion: The black haired woman is dead, the demons got to her before I could.

The never ending road to paradise

Walking for days now.  Blindly through the broken roads and tainted sky I march ever so nobly.  Screams of torture surround me.  This road will never end nor will the anguish and pain that its followers carry on their backs.  Life is fair to the select few.  All else are outcasts.  We only know joy through our dreams and fantasies.  Hopeless is our names.  The dark is our homes. The light our enemy for it shows our many flaws.
For in the light all our imperfections are visible to all.

The sun never shined until last night

Dreams are not your friends.
They create disillusionment that poison the mind.
They trick you into chasing fantasies that never were nor ever be.
Your mind may be the biggest culprit in its ability to pull those from your life, buried and forgotten, and give them heightened existence in your heart.
The mere idea of the concept that we may never act out these fantasies are torturing in nature, up to the point that it becomes replaced by burden.
For the first time in all my dreams the sun had shined.  It was golden.  Full of hope and opportunity I willingly accepted it as my reality all up to the point where I woke up.
Dreams are hurt-full lies and fake promises.
Is it fair to experience heaven just to break to realization that I am trapped in this prison of a life.  One in which the warmth and hue of the sun will never be as warm and inviting as it could ever be in my dreams.  I wish I could reject this reality for one in which I will never wake up from.  Make the lies my home and heaven and never look back.