Dreams

4.

There's this saying that goes, "Your real dreams happen when you're wide awake and living them!" Actually, I found that one on Google. I also still don't know what it means, and now that I'm unconscious and still asleep, it's even harder to understand. I wish I never tried that stupid pill, and I wish I woke up. I never knew dreams could be a trap, and it's hard to distinguish the difference between reality and illusions. I wonder how long it's been, I wonder if my family thinks I'm dead. I wonder if I've been asleep for seven days straight, or if it's still the same night. It was hard to tell. I was a prisoner of my own mind.

Good thing that this is a "lucid" dream, because I could alter things if I want. So I wasn't stuck in that shitty book store with shitty people, (who disappeared) and no car, I managed to go back to my house with a single thought and got my car back in my driveway. Oh, I wish it was always that easy in reality. I thought about calling Natalie, but I knew it wasn't really her. She's just a figment of my imagination. I think. And my phone is acting weird. 

I stared at myself in the mirror. It's odd. It looks like me, but it couldn't be. I'm in my house, sleeping in my bed, probably covered in sweat and knocked out cold. I looked over at my bed. I sat down and placed my hand where my real self is sleeping. I kept asking myself to just wake up already. The fun is over. I've had enough. It feels like it's been years. I scold myself for taking more pills than I should have. I grabbed the bottle on my nightstand and looked at the label. It's all gibberish and unrecognizable characters. 

I ordered a pizza (does it even matter if I eat or drink?) just because and thank God it was here in a fraction of a second. The pizza tasted amazing, probably the best I ever had. I figured that if I'm stuck in this dream, I could at least make the most of it and experience new things. I will never take those pills again. I can just imagine when I finally do wake up, I'd be on the news getting interviewed, telling the world about my experience. They'd ban the pills and I would get rich for my troubles, and eventually write something decent enough to become a bestseller. 

I ate the entire box of pizza, because I can do whatever I want. I didn't feel uncomfortably full, so that was good. I didn't even pay for the pizza. I don't remember. I was sitting with my thoughts. Why was I dreaming of such bizarre things? The constant fear of being rejected, and my books getting turned down and I'm a failure. I couldn't wrap my head around it. Maybe that's what I'm really scared of. My dreams are trying to make me face my fear.