
I know the reason for it being as it has lately. Why I sleep with a candle burning next to my slumberess head. I feel the breeze and touch of the spirits, I hear the laughter and singing they bring with their presence, the crying and weeping they try to hide from you. I’m not sure why she is so persistant with death lately. I guiltily should have realised sooner. I diassociate the lapse of time I should never forget. So pressed into my mind are nightmares. The most vivid and creative ways of death, pain and torture upon my soul. I do not ask for this. I hate this.
I slept 23 hours straight over the weekend, not from cause of my own. My body was trapped, under my mind which forever churned out the dreams and events before my internal eye, not allowing my body to function and awake itself.

I dreamt of rape. By someone I am fearful of. He came to my house, held me down, My screams muffled by the sting of his fist against my face. The throbbing of pain between my legs and the arch of my back in a wrongful unnatural position. I tried screaming. Nobody came until it was too late. I was found bruised and bloody slumped against a wall. He walked away laughing. This is a dream I remember so vividly but wish not to at all.

I dreamt of fire. Burning housefire. We were pulled from it safely. But as I watch the flames lick closer to where my written and photographic posistions were held, I sobbed and reached out for all my memories soon to be lost. No place left in the world, no record of my existance being able to remain through such force. I ran back into the house. Clutching and ducking the beams of fire above my head. I reached the bookshelf, I touched my albums and diaries of years gone by. They turned to dust. The fire hadn’t even reached that area yet, but somehow, life did not want these possesions to remain. I let the blackbness ofthe charred smoke fill my lungs, sting my eyes, and the carbon dioxide to take my conciousness.

I dreamt of death. The death of a baby. I was in another life, perhaps myself older, mature, calmer and above all, happy. I was surround by love and warmth, and carried a beautiful double set golden pair of rings upon my wedding finger. In my dream, I tried to recall the other aspects of my life, who was I sharing it with, where was I living? But my dream did not want me to know all this, just understand I was happy in my time. I felt sensations in my abdomen, and remembered a flash of a warm embrace with someone and realised I was pregnant. The dream focused in fast succesion the process of change upon my body. From subtle growth, to the gentle bubble like feeling of when the child moved inside me. The happiness at baby showers, lotioning the growing skin, Laughter and soft pink colours of a nursery. The the day arrived, I was surrounded by loved ones, the pain of giving birth in a dream was rather frightening, but overtaken by adrenelin. The bundle arrived, the room went silent. A bundle wrapped in pink was taken out of the room. I searched the eyes of the attending people lingering in the room, their eyes showed sadness, beyond belief. I wanted to know what was wrong? Why was there no crying coming from the other room, why was no one acknowledging me? I jumped out of bed, and ran into the adjoining room. There before my eyes, was a hollow, lifeless gray body of something so tiny and miraculous, it looked like it wasn’t even there. I had given birth to a child who had already passed on.

I dreamt others like the three above. Each time waking up sobbing, screaming, exhausted, irrational and dillusional. But to relive the rest of them, in order to detail them in words, would exhaust me even more. Just the memories of such visions, so real and life like, that my brain still has trouble deciding the difference between reality and not. I don’t want to know to be honest. Sleep allows me to avoid all in life. Well I thought it did. I want to sleep to escape my reality, but my sleeping mind is now worse that real life. I’m scared to go to sleep, and scared to stay awake. Is there not some place between I can substantiate a viewing glass of life? Yet not be involved as much as I am at the moment… I’m scared of the next second, the next phone call, the next email, the next letter, the next conversation with someone around me, scared of tomorrow, of tonight, of deciding anything from lunch to where should I be on my break. When I make a decision, I’m scared its the wrong one. I’m not normally like this, but I feel as though I given the reigns of my soul to someone else for a while. No one in particular, just in auto-pilot mode whilst I take a break. Oh how badly do I need a break…
