Thoughts

Dreaming

Dreams are haunting, most of my dreams scared me, they drove me crazy! At first, my dreams were very comforting and sweet, full of the very few people I loved and trusted. But, things turned bad, the love that they once showed in that dream were now dead. The niceness turned into mockery. The " I love you's" turned into "you're pathetic, useless, and greedy." My dreams made me want to never fall asleep ever again.

Something that always helped me block out the dreams a bit was actually the thing I loved most, music. Before I went to bed every night, I would make sure that my headphones were plugged in and my music was playing. Something that I found slightly more soothing was actually lullaby versions of my favorite songs. It didn't work completely, but it helped. Honestly, help was all I needed, not just for dreams, but with everything.

My biggest fear is that all of the pain I went through when I was a teen will come back. I know that it most likely won't, because I'm better now. All of the pain has subsided, it's almost completely gone. But the fear, the fear that one day I'll wake up still a teen, suicidal and dead inside, that fear still lingers. But for now, I dream, like I always did as a teen, but my dreams have become happier and I no longer fear falling asleep.

I always feared falling apart, but one day I realized that I already had. I felt like I had already died, like I had joined the fallen ones, even though I was still here. My memories were broken, the only thing I could remember was the painful memories, that was what I dreamt about a lot. I was always so afraid, I had seen what had happened to others like me, I really didn't want to end up like them, but I did. I hated my dreams, they were what I feared most.

The words that those people in my dreams told me cut deep like knives, they often lead to scars in my mind. Even now, they're still in my mind, but I try to hide them, it usually works. I feel like my dreams are what lead to my falling apart. My dreams are what killed me. I hate to admit it, but they really did, they pushed me to my breaking point, I couldn't help but blame it on myself. I hated myself for letting those dreams get the best of me, I blamed myself because I believed that I could've fought harder. Looking back on it now, I know I couldn't have done anything and that I did my best, but I didn't know it then.

I would wake up in the middle of the night from the nightmares, the soothing words from my music helped me calm down and fall asleep again, I usually slept peacefully afterwards, usually. I loved what music could do for me, in some crazy way, it saved me. The music helped me through my nightmares, the calming words let me know that everything was okay, the wordless songs that had lovely rhythm helped me realize that I didn't need words to save me. But, those dreams made me feel hopeless.

When I was younger, I read stories about how a love interest helped save the person in need, and that's what I thought would save me from those dreams. But, that never happened. The music is what saved me from my dreams in some weird way. I thought that one day some amazing person would turn my nightmares into beautiful dreams, but I didn't need some love interest to save myself from those terrible dreams, I had music, and after awhile, that's what helped me. I never knew that music could do so much for a person until I was saved by music myself. It's kind of crazy, knowing that I wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for those songs. I always ask myself what would happen if I didn't have those songs to save me, even though I already know the answer, I would be dead, I wouldn't be here now, and that is what scares me now.

I always wonder about those dreams, about what triggered it, I still don't know the answer, I don't think I ever did. Maybe the reason is in my mind somewhere, but I made it so I would never be able to know. Maybe something awful happened to me, and I just don't want to know what. I might have gone through something traumatizing, but maybe I've made it so I will never know what. I'm scared that one day the memory will come back. I'm scared that when I do remember, I will go back to being my old miserable self. Maybe I shouldn't know what triggered those dreams, I just don't want to end up like how I was before. I will keep hoping that those dreams never come back, I will start hoping that I never know why they were there in the first place, maybe that's what's best for me: not knowing.