dream diary

A log of dreams and terrors Content warning. Proceed with caution.

[d-otflow]

Outside I was accursed by the sun, horrid and ugly and wretched

Inside no one saw, I was normal. Hidden by artificial light.

The bike I wanted to use kept leaning to one side, making it impossible to ride; so I had to walk on foot down the street I grew up on to meet my uncle Ruben.

I reveal my face in a music classroom at school. No one saw.

[d-otflow]

I asked you in my dream "Why did you kill yourself" and you stared, not in confusion but in knowing. You stared like I confronted you with something bad you've been keeping a secret. I'm so angry. We were supposed to go on a fishing trip with grandma, grandpa, and Paige but the kitchen is a wreck and I forgot to do my laundry. I was trying to feel something by putting a heavy table on top of my torso. Any thing but sheer anger and frustration and heartache. Here you are watching 3 different sports on 3 different tvs and I can't stand it.

"A few years from now, you will kill yourself. Why?"

"I don't know"

"Are you Suicidal?" "I mean, I don't really think about suicide"

A friend will tell me that you're thinking of suicide like a taste or a smell; the idea of suicide is a dry concept to you. A mundane thing. This is the most dangerous way to think about suicide, they tell me. A scientific image of a sunflower in various stages of decay come with this revelation.

This friend tells you to wear a sweater late at night before bed to help you. It is white with a beige stripe at the top, and inside that stripe is dots that look like bleeding bullet holes.

And it does help you in this dream. You make a post on Facebook that turns into nonsensical cry-typing. "A kid is helping me (...) told me to wear this sweater"

I don't know if I had kept dreaming, if you would actually fix yourself or if you would remain the same after a while.