Around four AM, I woke up, sobbing and halfway screaming, from the first actual nightmare I can remember ever having. I literally tripped out of bed, threw on some clothes, managed to remember my keys, thankfully, and went downstairs. It wasn't until I could actually see the sky, the stars, and breathe in actual fresh air, that I began to really wake up.
I tried to smoke a cigarette to calm down, but my hands were shaking so badly I didn't dare risk it.
Even now, I can't remember a lot of the details of this nightmare. I remember fire, and bombs, and gunshots. Lots of violence. The dead, mutilated body of my youngest brother. Bodies everywhere. Blood. More fire, more gunshots. Everywhere. Feeling like there was no escaping, no safe haven anywhere.
After twenty minutes, I calmed down enough to go back upstairs, take a quick shower, re-make my bed, and go back to sleep for a bit. No more nightmares that time, thankfully.
If it takes me another twenty-one years to have my next proper nightmare, I'll be glad.
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I used to have nightmares like that. Still do sometimes, mostly about my mother. I wish I knew why so maybe I could make them stop.
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And I've actually once dreamed I shot my mother, but I've never really been scared by a dream before. It's v. weird.
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i stumbled over the lines of Bob Dylan in your icon.
Thought i leave a comment about it.
sometimes live feels like being in desolation row isn't it?
nightmares.. brrrr hate them.
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Odd coincidence: You have a cat in your icon, and your username is basically my parents' cat's name. Oi.
Thanks for the pity. :)
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Maar onze poes heet ook zo, het ding passeerde me per toeval toen ik een nick zocht. nou ja..
Het is zo een wit langharig pluizebolleke..vandaar.
:o)
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*hug*
*hug again*
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