racing and the tears that leaked freely in the dream world dampened your cheek in the physical world?
I have been having a lot of dreams like that of late.
Happy ones where I would wake up smiling.
Dark ones where I would wake up and question my own cravings for death.
And sad ones, where the tears still flowed even when I woke. Today I’d woken with an appetite.
Ryan was going to help me in ways I’d never really thought about before. Art was always an outlet for me and with each dream came a new sketch, a new face haunting me. Why was everything so muddled?
Why were my dreams so intense, so consuming?
Why wasn’t I more like Ryan?
He said we were the same.
“Another bad dream?” His voice carries from a darker corner of the room where he would occasionally sit and watch me sleep. The shine from the window highlights his silhouette, and to anyone else it would be frightening to wake up with the devil sat with one leg perched up, the ankle resting on his knee and his hands gripping the armrests. Dark, alluring eyes devouring you, imagining all the worst kinds of sin, and yet to me it was a comfort.
His voice was almost accusing, the tone deep and pointed, sending a shiver to race throughout my body.
My demons plaguing my sleeping hours made me angry, made me feel inferior to be with him; I know I was disappointing him…
Shut them up…keep them locked in your head…
“Do your demons not drown you, Ryan?” I ask, already knowing the answer… nothing could drown him .
“I am my demons, and I know how to swim.”
His reply was one I expected from him and how I longed to feel that way about mine. The way he spoke it was so confident, he was so comfortable with who he was. I thought I was where I belonged so why was I so disturbed by ghosts when I closed my eyes at night?
Things were so good for a while; I was painting more than just Ryan, more than just Hannah and Tom dying in a pool of blood. I’d been painting the landscape and architecture of all the beautiful places he had shown me over the three years we’d been travelling together. Ryan filled the void inside me and in a small way I believed I did the same for him. Sometimes when my demons troubled my dreams I felt a burden to him. He was so comfortable in the dark, within himself, that I was jealous of his freedom and longed for him to help free me of them.
“Teach me,” I begged.
His domineering presence in the room caused the air to heat around me, he was a force so strong even the air around him appeared to tremble.
That’s just your quivering thighs.
My mind was like a washing machine set on a spin cycle. I could never stop the turbulence in there lately.
Focusing solely on him, I will the storm inside to calm.
“Until you accept who you actually are, you’ll never be free of those dreams Cereus.” His leg unfolds, dropping to the floor where he leans forward to pick something up at his feet. He holds up a sketch I did yesterday, it’s of a girl I’d met briefly at the beach a couple of days before. Thinking of her brings turmoil and annoyance to the surface. She was wearing a string bikini and she mocked me for my one piece in front of a crowd of men she was with. I rarely ever ventured out to do normal things like going down to the beach but I wanted to swim in the ocean. I liked swimming; it was freeing and helped soothe the madness inside.
It wasn’t the fact she was trying to be a bitch in front of men, I didn’t care what they thought of me. It was the fact she had the cheek to even approach me just to be a bitch. It was like looking in the face of Hannah all that time ago.
Some people are so insecure about themselves that they need to target others.
She was found dead the next day on the very sand she mocked me from.
… She deserved to die
“Until I accept who I am? What does that even mean?” I ask, confusion worrying my brow.
When he rises to his feet it makes me startle and shift on the bed. He comes
I have been having a lot of dreams like that of late.
Happy ones where I would wake up smiling.
Dark ones where I would wake up and question my own cravings for death.
And sad ones, where the tears still flowed even when I woke. Today I’d woken with an appetite.
Ryan was going to help me in ways I’d never really thought about before. Art was always an outlet for me and with each dream came a new sketch, a new face haunting me. Why was everything so muddled?
Why were my dreams so intense, so consuming?
Why wasn’t I more like Ryan?
He said we were the same.
“Another bad dream?” His voice carries from a darker corner of the room where he would occasionally sit and watch me sleep. The shine from the window highlights his silhouette, and to anyone else it would be frightening to wake up with the devil sat with one leg perched up, the ankle resting on his knee and his hands gripping the armrests. Dark, alluring eyes devouring you, imagining all the worst kinds of sin, and yet to me it was a comfort.
His voice was almost accusing, the tone deep and pointed, sending a shiver to race throughout my body.
My demons plaguing my sleeping hours made me angry, made me feel inferior to be with him; I know I was disappointing him…
Shut them up…keep them locked in your head…
“Do your demons not drown you, Ryan?” I ask, already knowing the answer… nothing could drown him .
“I am my demons, and I know how to swim.”
His reply was one I expected from him and how I longed to feel that way about mine. The way he spoke it was so confident, he was so comfortable with who he was. I thought I was where I belonged so why was I so disturbed by ghosts when I closed my eyes at night?
Things were so good for a while; I was painting more than just Ryan, more than just Hannah and Tom dying in a pool of blood. I’d been painting the landscape and architecture of all the beautiful places he had shown me over the three years we’d been travelling together. Ryan filled the void inside me and in a small way I believed I did the same for him. Sometimes when my demons troubled my dreams I felt a burden to him. He was so comfortable in the dark, within himself, that I was jealous of his freedom and longed for him to help free me of them.
“Teach me,” I begged.
His domineering presence in the room caused the air to heat around me, he was a force so strong even the air around him appeared to tremble.
That’s just your quivering thighs.
My mind was like a washing machine set on a spin cycle. I could never stop the turbulence in there lately.
Focusing solely on him, I will the storm inside to calm.
“Until you accept who you actually are, you’ll never be free of those dreams Cereus.” His leg unfolds, dropping to the floor where he leans forward to pick something up at his feet. He holds up a sketch I did yesterday, it’s of a girl I’d met briefly at the beach a couple of days before. Thinking of her brings turmoil and annoyance to the surface. She was wearing a string bikini and she mocked me for my one piece in front of a crowd of men she was with. I rarely ever ventured out to do normal things like going down to the beach but I wanted to swim in the ocean. I liked swimming; it was freeing and helped soothe the madness inside.
It wasn’t the fact she was trying to be a bitch in front of men, I didn’t care what they thought of me. It was the fact she had the cheek to even approach me just to be a bitch. It was like looking in the face of Hannah all that time ago.
Some people are so insecure about themselves that they need to target others.
She was found dead the next day on the very sand she mocked me from.
… She deserved to die
“Until I accept who I am? What does that even mean?” I ask, confusion worrying my brow.
When he rises to his feet it makes me startle and shift on the bed. He comes
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