Change the dream

I wake up in a cold sweat

I've had the dream again. The one where everythings the same.

But the minutiae of my surroundings are different.

The walls were yellow. The sky was red.

Red as the blood spilled in vain.

My dreams are violent, hectic.

I wonder what they are trying to tell me.

Maybe nothing. Maybe warning.

Maybe nothing.

The moment of wakefulness over, I slip back into slumber.

Music floats softly from the other room.

Spastic. Angry. In Spanish.

A beautiful woman reclines on a chaise lounge, looking for someone to spite.

I approach her. Ask her her name.

She claims she is nameless.

I ask her why.

"I reject you. I deny you. I defy you to continue."

Hmmm. That was weird.

I leave her, and walk into a room as black as pitch.

Bodies writhe in unequalled abandon.

Bass blasts my bones, I slide along with buttery leads.

I begin to dance, to weave, to love.

"Your friends are cattle!" shouts one of the partiers.


"Theyre trudging towards slaughter as we speak!"


Suddenly, gunshots; he is destroyed for his good deed.

I weep for the senselessly lost.

Now I must play to save my soul.

A game of cats and mice. Of witches and warlocks. Of life and death.

I awaken.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

My dreams are weird. As are my awakes.

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