Maybe sleep isn't better than life. The dreams are too vivid. They take me to paradise only to destroy it and all my hope. There is no hope for me. Just nothing with an added dash of nothing. It's better than consciousness in that at least I know it's not real. Usually. But it acts as a way to toy with all emotion I have.
My dreams aren't anything special. Just life. My life. Except it's not. When I start to believe that everything's okay, it all begins to change. Everything goes wrong. The faces change into something... odd. It's the only way to describe it. And my passion and joy for life dissolves into fear. Suddenly my world is crashing down around me and death is around the corner. But then I wake up.
If my body was normal, I'd know that I'd be tangled in my sheets, breathing hard, my heart rate accelerated, and sweat soaking my body. But my body isn't normal. It's outside of my control. I can hear the machines controlling its movements, monitoring its condition. The air forced into my lungs is steady. My heart monitor says it's running smoothly. I hate this.
Plant Life
12 years ago
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