My legs were numb when I woke up. It happens a lot. When ever my hands or legs fall asleep... my dreams become nightmares. I think it's because my mind is trying to make sense of why my body is suddenly not being able to feel.
This is the nightmare I had when my legs became numb.
The house was tall and dark. Six stories. Each floor was just a small shadowed room. And my mind kept flashing to cut up legs. The legs had thousands of shallow razor cuts, and each person on each floor had cut up legs.
The cuts were from a shaving razor.
The girl that I was speaking to looked like the actress who played Matilda. Dark brown hair, bow head band. She was not on the first, second or third floor.
But before I began stepping up the spiral wooden stairs, she spoke about being cut on her legs. How the people in the house all had cuts on their legs, but a few were the ones doing it--- even to themselves. She seemed terrified, but in a serious way.
After she talked to me she disappeared. And that's when I began on the first floor.
The young adult I met was blond and had a slim build. He had dark brown eyes and I when I found him shaking in the corner of his black, shadowed room with only a queen bed in the middle, I found he only had underwear on. It isn't that kind of dream though, so if that's what you are hoping to read, just leave.
He was curled up, leaning his head against the dark wall when I spoke to him. I couldn't hear myself speaking, but I knew I was asking him questions like 'What's happening?' and 'Who did this to you?' as I was referring to his red, bleeding legs. But he looked past me, and was whimpering and crying. He didn't speak, but he looked up. He looked up.
The young woman I met on the second floor was brief.
In fact, I don't remember it at all.
All I know is that it was the same looking room, only one higher, and that she was sitting in her underwear (white, underwear) and she was silent. I didn't speak to her. But I remember her raven black navy hair. She had black irises.
The third floor is the final floor I got to, but I knew there were a few more above me. The woman in this floor-- same bedroom like the others-- she was laughing the crazed maniacal way that insane people laugh. She was cutting her legs with a shaving razor. Cutting horizontally. She would whisper something, cut, laugh, cut, whisper, laugh, cut, cut, cut.
I said hello. But she was unaware of me. And as I was speaking, I realized she was answering me without me realizing it. I would ask her what's going on, and she would cut and say something in a verse of poetry. When I asked her why she was cutting herself she responded like this:
Living in fear, unaware of here
cut, cut, cut.
I can see, but cannot be
cut, cut, cut.
Wouldn't you rather have control
of the fist that hit you
an hour ago
than not be able to sleep
with a content mind?
If you were the one the dragged the blade
and slept in a bed that's softly made
than not be able to sleep
due to a restless mind?
My hand
My movements
My power
Not theirs.
They can't touch me
with my own cuts
because the room is gone
they've lost their luck.
And that's when I woke up in a panic. I was so terrified I had to turn on the light and was unable to sleep. Because as she spoke, my vision was flooded with images and I knew that the little girl who I first met was in the very top room, and that she was the one that scared every one and cut everyone elses' legs. And Getting that rush of information made me terrified.
But as I say,
I would rather have nightmares than not be able to remember my dreams.
After she talked to me she disappeared. And that's when I began on the first floor.
The young adult I met was blond and had a slim build. He had dark brown eyes and I when I found him shaking in the corner of his black, shadowed room with only a queen bed in the middle, I found he only had underwear on. It isn't that kind of dream though, so if that's what you are hoping to read, just leave.
He was curled up, leaning his head against the dark wall when I spoke to him. I couldn't hear myself speaking, but I knew I was asking him questions like 'What's happening?' and 'Who did this to you?' as I was referring to his red, bleeding legs. But he looked past me, and was whimpering and crying. He didn't speak, but he looked up. He looked up.
The young woman I met on the second floor was brief.
In fact, I don't remember it at all.
All I know is that it was the same looking room, only one higher, and that she was sitting in her underwear (white, underwear) and she was silent. I didn't speak to her. But I remember her raven black navy hair. She had black irises.
The third floor is the final floor I got to, but I knew there were a few more above me. The woman in this floor-- same bedroom like the others-- she was laughing the crazed maniacal way that insane people laugh. She was cutting her legs with a shaving razor. Cutting horizontally. She would whisper something, cut, laugh, cut, whisper, laugh, cut, cut, cut.
I said hello. But she was unaware of me. And as I was speaking, I realized she was answering me without me realizing it. I would ask her what's going on, and she would cut and say something in a verse of poetry. When I asked her why she was cutting herself she responded like this:
Living in fear, unaware of here
cut, cut, cut.
I can see, but cannot be
cut, cut, cut.
Wouldn't you rather have control
of the fist that hit you
an hour ago
than not be able to sleep
with a content mind?
If you were the one the dragged the blade
and slept in a bed that's softly made
than not be able to sleep
due to a restless mind?
My hand
My movements
My power
Not theirs.
They can't touch me
with my own cuts
because the room is gone
they've lost their luck.
And that's when I woke up in a panic. I was so terrified I had to turn on the light and was unable to sleep. Because as she spoke, my vision was flooded with images and I knew that the little girl who I first met was in the very top room, and that she was the one that scared every one and cut everyone elses' legs. And Getting that rush of information made me terrified.
But as I say,
I would rather have nightmares than not be able to remember my dreams.
No comments:
Post a Comment