[WP] Dreams are nonsense. They are nothing more than chaotic recycling of memories as your synapses randomly fire. There are no messages to be heard, no insights to be found, no monsters to be faught. Dreams have no meaning. At least, that’s what everybody else thinks. You know better.https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/dyjlm4/wp_dreams_are_nonsense_they_are_nothing_more_than/

I come to in the darkness. Sweat drips off me , causing my shirt to stick to me uncomfortably. I breath a sigh out. Just a dream. I tell myself this as I pull myself from the tangled sheets. I’m always telling myself this mantra. Mom and dad told it to me. The babysitter said it. The therapist chanted it until it was the only thing I knew to say when I would wake up like this.

I stumble to the bathroom in the tiny studio apartment, cast off my damp clothes, and throw myself through a shower. It’s the scratches on my arms though that get me. The bruises that show up randomly. The slashed sheets. They all say I do it to myself. Maybe I do. Hard to verify it when they had a 24 hour live feed on me in solitary back when my parents put me in a psych ward. The staff couldn’t explain the manifestations. They let me out a month later when they couldn’t figure out the marks, or make the nightmares stop. They tried. I had the scars to prove it.

Now, in a different city, in a different country, I was still running from my dreams most nights. A new job had done little to change the stress that they all blamed on instigating the nightmares. Like school, clubs, love life. Everything was stress. It was everything else that caused me to dream, to be weird. That’s what they kept saying. They’d say it to their graves.

Dried and clothed, minor wounds addressed, I stripped the bed of it’s linens and tossed all of it in the washer. I wanted to see them explain the green and purple goo that coated the bedding and stained my sheets weird shades of opalescent grey. Let them try to tell me the box of bizarre spears that shot corrosive pink bubbles, electric knives with glowing jewels I could not find the names to, and laser guns that shrunk to the size of my pink finger hidden under my bed were just my imagination. I wanted to see the expression on their faces when I finally dragged the creatures into my world. When I had enough evidence to turn the world on it’s head, I’d bring it all out.

I smiled as my gaze settled on the nightstand. A burnt-umber scaled appendage with seven talons rested in the plastic tray I kept there for my nightmares. I had learned after numerous attempts to drag whatever I could from the other side that I’d rather not have gross stuff all over my furniture. The talons twitched nervously.

The chest at the end of the bed produced a new package of sheets. With luck, I’ll be back to sleep before midnight had passed and I’ll get a second chance. This time. This time I’ll drag it over, kicking and scream if I have to. I finished assembling my bedding and tossed the talon in a massive plastic bag and deposited it in the freezer with the other bits and pieces I’d come away with before collapsing back on the mattress.

Time to dream big, kid. I told myself. I forced my eyes closed and the nebulous turmoil behind my eyelids dropped me into the wormhole once again. We’re going monster hunting.

RT @ThorntonGibsonK: I can’t wait to read what happens next in The Kavordian Library! – #scifi, #fantasy, #webseries #books

I am a writer and artist working through the Kavordian Library series. I write sci-fi, fantasy, lgbt romance.

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