Dreams are fascinating; don’t get me wrong. Despite when a dream sends chills through each bone. Does the sensation of sleep really out do the flaws that send us lost and confused among unmarked halls? There are files and files of each day, though time makes memories foggy, and longs to fade them away. I fear to dream; I fear visions of what may come. Occurrences that might not leave with the rising sun. What if such nightmares were to come true, leaving our world a harsh place that won’t ever pull through?
That classroom got easier, repeating theories from before. Until with threats, did “that man” walk through the door. Terror set in for the children in the dark, closing their eyes while the stranger left his mark. Amazing how easily he came in, creating fear for the little ones day out and day in. Endless tears of those who passed, making dreadful memories that forever last. Heading to the movies, for a very first date, until he came in, to determine their fate. An innocent movie may never be the same due to a boy craving a bit of fame? I try; I pray; I do what's right, just to experience horror throughout the night. Suddenly, that bus stop became a dangerous place, due to weeks that passed without her trace. That poor little girl with a trust so strong, was just too naive to who would do her wrong. I worry; I distrust; I am at unease. I beg of god, please pretty please. Somedays, waking up out of that bad feel doesn’t assure that it’s completely unreal.
Nightmares are living to produce sincere screams, all thanks to the dreamer whom had twisted dreams. A whole night wasted just like yesterday, replays of exhausting visions that leave thoughts to stay. I question myself more each day, wondering if my mind is wasting away. Day to day we use sleep as our drug, then forget to sweep the terrors under the rug. I am ample; I am dull; are these fears a sin? I am growing sick from such dreaming I am stuck in. These files are growing, and the sky is dark, is it tonight these delusions make their mark? I am just a girl living among others in this world. I keep to myself, do what I am told, I pay attention, and I listen, sometimes too close.
It seems that these gunmen and abductors are not so rare, when they used to live only in my nightmare. Twisted dreams are beginning to spread to traits, putting smiles on those faces while they destroy and create. Dreams are fascinating; don’t get me wrong. Have you never wished some had never come along? Dreams are files of what's happened before, stuck on repeat, and in a new order. I’ve heard they are good for us, and keep us from dismay, but I question if the sensation can really outweigh. With such nightmares turned loose in a society so grand, who is to determine whether they are or are not “that man.’ I’ll try really hard to give the benefit of the doubt, just please don’t lose your sanity and throw humanity out.