Before you wake up🍊

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Is it scary to see yourself as horrible?

My dreams were never colourful, they were always full of drabness and emptiness. There was something missing, and every time I tried to add something, the feeling wouldn't go away. It became two-sided - still foggy, but clearer.
Nothing much was going on in them. I was just walking around the rooms, looking out the window on the ground floor, the big one that looks like an archway. And all I could always see in it was a fog hiding a rotting tree on a hill. I could never tell if it was morning, afternoon, evening or night. There was simply no time here, it didn't exist. Could that be the reason why there was only fog all around?
I stared at the rotting tree. It wasn't unusual, just an ordinary tree that had been burned by fire. However, it beckoned to me, I wanted to get in there and just see what the view was like. I looked for the door to the street, and when I found it, when I opened it I saw only darkness, so black, without anything. It was like a passageway into a dark corner of the mind that even you yourself couldn't get into, even if you wanted to.
I tried to force myself to take a step there, but I felt uncomfortable. Goosebumps ran down my spine and I closed the door abruptly, leaned my back against it and slowly rolled down, hugging my knees and putting my head down. Then I slowly watched as everything around me slowly dissolved into a fog.
My eyes barely parted. Turning my head, I looked out the window, which was curtained off. It was still deep in the night outside.
- And why do I always wake up at this time of day?" I asked myself sleepily, turning my head and looking up at the white ceiling, looking at some dried up drops left by the rain.
I could not answer my own question. Maybe my old age was the reason for that. Yes, at 40 you become old. And then they start to treat you differently, not the way you're already used to.
I turn my head again, wrapping my arms around the pillow and staring somewhere in a blurry point.
"I can do everything myself! Old age doesn't change anything about me!"-how many times have I told them that? Many, very many. But they didn't give a damn. They were watching me, worrying that nothing bad would happen. And it's annoying.
Age spoils a lot of things. Now I feel pathetic and weak and empty, like in my dreams. I don't know, maybe the fact that my soul is half empty also contributes to it.
Tears roll down my cheeks, and I simply press my pillow against it, hiding part of my face in it. I'm nothing.