Blood Red Ink.
“There was a full moon tonight, & it looked impressive, & gigantic – & closer than it appeared for some reason. I couldn’t believe it, I must’ve been dreaming ! & Knowing that the world I perceived was entirely my creation,
I decided to show off and fly around they sky and impress my friends who had apparently appeared out of nowhere.
I created animals and toys out of thin air, annihilated buildings, moved huge things, anything I wanted.
Lucidity granted me godhood in dreamland.”
Darkness shrouds the minds of the weak. It is the barbarism that cloaks human emotions when chaos rules the mind, the never ending abyss that tortures the soul, that renders it helpless, emaciated. It is a callous state, barren of life, a transcendental walk into one’s self destruction.
& it is within this weak state of mind lies the fundamental quintessence of what I am about the share, for I’ve lost myself in hopes of finding the lucidity of reality, of what can be controlled, felt, touched; of what exists & what does not.
How this anomalous obsession first began to exist within me is no longer important, nor does the unrecognisable disposition of my mind allow me to remember the finer details of this horror that I’ve unleashed upon myself. Perhaps this is a natural defense mechanism to protect the remaining sanity I have been holding on to so miserly, or perhaps, I fear that this is not the reality I’ve concealed myself within in hopes that I remain safe for now.
I have thrown myself into a whirlpool of lucid dreams.
& there’s no coming back now.
At this point, my dream journal is meaningless, it no longer excites me; now failing to captivate my distorted mind. It was once my act of remembrance, a reticent memoir of what I would see. Yet in my mind, I knew how tentative the images in my head became, they enthrall me still, but as the days pass by, they have become increasingly unnerving, leaving me behind to deal with the macabre state that it sheds away.
My lucid dreams have become unadulterated nightmares, my conscious mind can no longer control them & they depend solely on the creations of my subconsciousness. They now fill me with uncontrollable apprehension.
Many may wonder what exactly was in my dreams that compelled me so strongly, so unreasonably that I would phase into these fantasies so obsessively. Simply, they were initially beautiful; the possibilities were unmatched.
In my dreams, I created, I controlled – I was God. Supreme, & unmatched, I could bend the laws of nature with a single thought, I could end the world in a holocaust & rebuild it again, I was powerful & this was my world. I was it’s savior, it’s destroyer. The sole contender of this bizarre world that I had created which in turn had created me, my alter-ego.
I had, needless to say, become addicted to this unnatural world where I enjoyed to dwell in. & as all things one becomes obsessed with, darkness is soon to follow, gradually blending in, ever so cunningly, you do not notice it’s presence until it take a hold of everything you worked on & changes it so drastically that it destroys the tranquility you possess. This is when you realize that insanity is just a moment away & you have lost the power you once prided upon.
“I’m chasing a dark, black majestic horse, along the shores of a white sandy beach, it looks like it’s early morning. I feel nothing for this creature, but I’m still chasing it, & I keep doing so for quite sometime [or so it may seem] & I seem to be inching closer. I realize I’m in a lucid dream when I see my reflection in the shallow end of the water – I do not resemble myself.
I feel serious now, I pick up an abandoned sword & I want to annihilate this horse just for the sake of it.
I sliced its throat. I sliced twice. The horse fell, motionless.
Then the horse rose! But instead, it was the body of a horse in the shape of a man. The beast now had my sword. It’s eyes were barren of any emotion.
& then it plunged the sword into me, twisting & turning it within me, tearing my insides into pieces, with the blood pouring out of it’s body instead of mine. Moments later, the horse disappears & I’m lying on the white sand, withering in pain.
I’m dying. Dying alone, in my dream, I can no longer control it .
I can see my self dying but cannot wake up ! ”
Every night had become a frantic nightmare for me, where Death lurked to get me only to find myself wake up, alone & unharmed, yet sweating profusely. I could not take it any longer, these mind games filled me with a deep sense of paranoia that I could not shake off. I needed to finish it. I needed to get rid of this anxiety that was mentally depredating my mind. I could no longer tell my dreams from my reality, it was all too real now.
Death was all I could think of – but it wasn’t the fear of the pain that held me back now, it was the fear of waking up again.
Weeks passed by, with a single thought in my mind. I was now falling through the cracks of my mind, losing myself to too many doubts that now surrounded me. I wanted to be devoid of all feelings. To be dead inside. I no longer wanted to face the fact that I could not tell my reality from my dreams because it had become my one weakness, the one thing that could break me into tiny fragments of myself – no one could restore me to what I was & it would be futile to hope anymore. I had to do it, I can no longer waste time.
I took the butcher knife out of the kitchen drawer & without a second thought, I plunged it in, deeper into my body as I fell to the ground. The pain blinded me, I could no longer see. I moaned, screamed in unexplainable agony as panic took over, yet I lay still, death was close. It was going to end. I would not have to go through those nightmares again. It was all over now. I smiled.
I have awoken.
It will not end.
There was never any escape.
I’ve been trapped.
**I’ve written this in 2 days [technically in less than 24 hours] & I wrote this when I was extremely sleep deprived, so if I come off as crazy & deranged then I’m guilty as charged. xP