Sunday, March 28, 2010

When I can't sleep, I dream.

There sits an ugly man. At first I don't know it because it's incredibly dark. We talk as if we're friends. The couch is comfy. And then he laughs, and the light comes on. All I can see is his hideous, sweaty, pimpled face. He shoves me off to a room of my own for the night. In it, I find bunk beds and a cozy children's environment. The little girls are sleeping, and I find a spot on the floor with a fleece blanket. In the morning, I wake with fear to do his bidding. If I don't, my life is lost. I've had this dream before; sent to bring back the feast for this killer. This time, we find dolls. He shouts with laughter as he rips their heads off and and throws them at the window of an elementary school. Does he thrive on making everyone around him very, very afraid? I stand there, throwing the heads of plastic dolls. They land on the ledge of the building and stay there, piling up as he laughs all the more. When we've ripped to shreds every last doll, I know instinctively I can safely go. For now. I begin to walk quickly down a high dock. It's wooden and old, with a gate that gets stuck. I can't help but run from this man, and he follows me slowly, singing to me. I squeeze through the small opening in the gate and down the stairs. I'm afraid of heights, and terrified to fall, but if he touches me I know I'm done. I reach the grassy ground and I run full force... until I hit a metal wall, look up at his cloaked wickedness, and dash off into the distance. I run and run and run. Then I wake, and see him in the corner of my room. My breath is fierce, and well, I'm terrified. I feel like a small child as I wrap the covers around my head and pray to God that he doesn't exist. All I can do is speak the name of Jesus. "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus..."

I'm not a morbid person. Why are my dreams so haunting? I have no control, and I don't want to believe that my sweet Lord allows these dreams to happen.

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