Dreams are fleeting. When you are sleeping, the sweetest of dreams fly away beyond your reach, beckoning you to find them again. As time progresses, the dream slowly fades from your mind, eventually evolving into nothingness. It never existed. It never happened.
But nightmares. Those are the dreams coated with glue. They stick. They're messy. They're a pain the the ass. Lately I have been having reocurring nightmares, so vivid I wake up just to reassure that I am still alive, safe in the comforts of my bed, at home. But I'm not safe in my own mind. Get me out.
My nightmares consist of me dying in an automobile crash. That thought haunts me at night, where my demons are already attempting to break free, to spread their wings. I'm particularly vulnerable and in sleep, that's where the thought roams free, takes it's own path.
Fuck nightmares.
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