Lament of the Mind

Dreams

are weird fucking things, yanno. I talk about my dreams a lot, but they never seem to make any more sense, no matter how much I talk.

Every time I dream, it reminds me that there’s a beast deep down inside me that could be unleashed at any time. This dream-me’s life is filled with sex and glory, blood and death, sadness and anger, happiness and hope. Sometimes it’s a what-if of my life, sometimes it’s just inner desires being unleashed…sometimes it’s just my brutal, evil way of coping with not being able to do anything in real life.

One of these days, I want to take some of the things I dream about and make them happen. Hopefully the good, happy ones, and not so much the brutal ones…but I guess in this world either is possible.

The demon inside me lays waiting to be unleashed, turned loose on my enemies…or used to make the world around me much better, much happier.

Either way I’m in no position to do anything with it yet, so it sleeps. Waiting. Dreaming.

I need to change that.