• When I dream, I dream backwards; does this say anything about my mind? Who I am? I'm not sure. Often enough I know the end, but I'm unable to stop whatever horror is going to happen. It's nearly damning.

    Nobody knew the real her. they knew her silence, her voice, her laugh, her explosive heart, but not her.

    He knew her caresses, her tenderness, her tears and her hate. he dipped beneath the surface, but could never reach much further below.

    I can't breathe when I wake up. I try to let go and join my dreams again, but when I do, I'm in another world, a different room, destined to wander through my clumsy waltz. Sometimes I know what's going to happen, sometimes I don't. Imagine that, a self-made prophet in a land even I can't control.

    She escaped the people she couldn't communicate with and replaced them with nameless, imaginary visages. Puppets? Perhaps. They were often strange and exotic and inspirational. She held onto their faces and sought to bring them to life in the real world. No one knew exactly what they looked like, but she enjoyed the private show they put on in her head.

    Do you die in your mind when you wake up? What if we stumble into the dream world, leave our imprint, then die there? Do the people we create miss us? Anticipate our return? Wait there behind our eyes and laugh at the things we do outside? Or do they get bored watching us do the boring, mundane work and walk away? What if we don't come back? Do they mourn us?

    She started to need a reason to get up. Work, money, school, they weren't enough anymore. Little did she know that she was steadily losing her connection to the real world. All she knew was that the people she used to love so dearly were drifting away and she had no idea how to chase after them, so she decided to give up and create a place where she wouldn't be left alone.

    There's usually color when I dream. Not a lot, but enough that I can tell what's purple and what's brown. I remember kissing an Asian man with purple hair once, that's how I know I can see colors. Oddly enough, I can't remember anymore than that. Am I forgetting anything important? I don't think so, I mean, they're not going to come after me and tell me what I missed or punish me. I don't think they could find me here anyway, they don't know what I look like here.

    Her creation was slowly fading away, so then she found a new world, one quiet, but not boring. All she needed to do was take the one step.

    I don't want to go.

    Yes you do, you need a place to be.

    ...but why here? Why now?

    Just do it. You'll thank me later.

    Will I dream?































    Then she cried.