The dreams are back.
I don’t want to call them nightmares.
Maybe because, to me, nightmares have always been things of blood and darkness and never having enough air.
But I’m so tired of dreaming of grief.
I’ve always believed dreams are things your subconscious mind is trying to tell you. And I’ve always been pretty good at understanding them.
But these days, I have no idea what it is that a part of me is apparently trying to tell the rest of me. Or vice versa. I don’t know…
Or maybe I don’t want to know…
It just feels like I’m running out of time. And I’m just so tired of waking up sad.
Even the relief of knowing none of it was real has long faded. Leaving me with nothing but this overwhelming numbness.
Because the dream may fade, may never have been real. But the feelings stay.
They won’t go away.
And I’m just so tired of all this grief…