The Oneiros

Narcolepsy w/ Cataplexy ⋮ 25〚 journal & writings of someone bound to the dreaming〛

[dreaming-oneiros]

I've been so allured by my fantasies basking in the escaping delusions, to the point of prayer. Everytime I lay down to sleep or am caught in wandering thoughts from a conversation gone dull, I am languidly lavishing within the confines of my imagination and psyche.

[dreaming-oneiros]

hypnos and i share an unhealthy dynamic

he finds me in the quiet moments i have alone between breaths, between thoughts. his voice a serene whisper that threads through each day taunting me of his inevitable arrival.

sometimes he lingers too close, circling as a silent hunter. i am unwilling to yield to his rigid and onerous grasp.

yet when melancholic despair drapes itself across me, he gathers me into his arms with sincere benevolence. his acceptance of me compassionate and absolute. it is unfortunately a mercy i am incapable of refusing.

morpheus follows soon after i am ensnared. they cross through my slipping consciousness, luring me deeper into their whimsical domain.

if not for the child of hypnos, i might still be tempted to run. though i suspect even the chaos of the waking world would not save me from him.

[dreaming-oneiros]

True exhaustion of the soul is incomprehensible. We have philosophers speculate on how to push forward, to be angry, to use other feelings as energy to move forward, to incite hope in one way or another despite the feelings, circumstances or trauma.

What if there is nothing left? What of absolute depletion?

[dreaming-oneiros]

I am tired.

I say it and no one bats an eye. I hear it from someone else and I tear up. I suppose that says a lot about the people I love, know or encounter.

[dreaming-oneiros]

Everytime I am reminded my favorite characters are different parts of me but personified, I get a little existential about it.

[dreaming-oneiros]

Death and I have a toxic relationship. The yearning for the embrace all while terrified.

Don't touch me, I do not wish to know you. But, oh how I wonder what you are.

What a silly dance we play.

[dreaming-oneiros]

I now understand why many artists lost their shit.

[dreaming-oneiros]

I was made of softened wool, meant for gentleness and amiable warmth. I was not made to be callous nor cold. Wool is not meant to let in the quiet chill, but I had been worn thin by time. Endlessly long was the duration it took for weaving, slow the mending, until my fibers remembered their softness. Now the stitching does not falter and new layers gather like a warming flame to keep the frigid coolness away. And so I say again; I was made of softened wool, meant for gentleness and amiable warmth.

[dreaming-oneiros]

Last night in my dream I wished to speak with the Fates. I am unsure why. I haven't had any inclination for speaking with them. I haven't read much of them since 2021.

Curious to see where such a thing will go. Perhaps a new thread will be shown. I have made various and inevitable decisions to be where I am at.

[dreaming-oneiros]

Grieving every single change is exhausting.

[dreaming-oneiros]

"The difference between hope and despair is a different way of telling stories from the same facts."

- Alain de Botton

[dreaming-oneiros]

Sometimes I like to envision Hypnos as cruel and kind.

When sudden sleep seizes me without warning, I imagine his hand striking me, hurling me into the Dreaming, into realms where I exist and yet do not. He is merciless; resistance is futile, and though I may strain against him, I always fall.

But other times, when slumber arrives slow and inevitable, it drifts upon me like a half-remembered melody - one the Soul recalls, though the Mind forgets. In these moments, Hypnos is tender. He presses a kiss upon my brow, and with the back of his knuckles, grazes my cheek in a quiet caress. His softened touch lulls me to rest and guides me gently away from the waking world. And truly, how could I resist the sweetness of Sleep?

Perhaps Hypnos is cruel and kind.

[dreaming-oneiros]

I long for a relief, though when I am faced with nostalgia or escapism, I become even more of a prisoner to Despair.

I look upon my fantasies, books, writings and have to turn away to forget what isn't and cannot be. I look to the very few, small yet lively memories of my younger ages and find yearning to be in that one singular and simple moment.

I grieve what I cannot fully articulate without explaining that this reality is what you make of it. Nonetheless, having a body that prohibits alongside a mind of trauma merits difficulty. Even when things are good, I am grateful, I am not struggling - there in the back of my mind was this. This grief I carry because of the love I have for the lost and the fantasy.

I try to not be harsh on myself. The mind was my strongest asset when surviving a violent, highly reactive environment. I merely wish to enjoy what used to be enjoyable because this life is not. This life is what I make it and I am young. I have lots to live. Maybe one day, I can find contentment in these things once again.

[dreaming-oneiros]

'Follow your dreams.'

That's what my mother always told me.

When I was a kid, I had a big imagination to fully envision the life I wanted. I knew where I wanted to go and some ideas of what I could do.

What I hadn't known was that Dreams were to be my escape, my lover - a safe haven against the cruel reality all around us. I wasn't told Dreams were not things I wanted to be or to do, it was what was made within the other worlds that I could call home.

[dreaming-oneiros]

Reunite with me within a Dream

The landscape caters to our desire, a night sky with a canopy of glistening stars and unseen galaxies. This is where time itself softens and slows to grant us the rare opportunity of savoring each other’s company

[dreaming-oneiros]

I think of you all day - sweet Sleep.

You are my escape; you've tainted the essence of my being.

My body cannot fight you as you take my breath away. Do you find joy in dragging me with you?

I almost think of you as cruel, though I cannot find any resentment for you anymore.

You are my escape, my haven, my rest.

I am tired, Sleep.

[dreaming-oneiros]

I look to the midnight sky during waking hours, wondering when I'd be back with you within the dimensions of dreams.

Would you be waiting for me as I wait for you? Would you smile softly at me with unfathomable warmth - no judgement, no malicious intentions, only merely your adoration? Would you engulf me in my long anguish once more?