They say Hallucinating are the visions of dreams you wish to come true, but what if Hallucinations were the dreams thus far to come ?
Like as if what we knows as reality is a dream we've yet to waken up from.
Read to find out more.
Slamming down my pencil my heart seems to have sped up, beginning to pound in my chest, starting to get slightly breathless I stare at the sketch I've just finished, this is the fifth time something similar to this has occurred.
Gently biting down on the tip of my thumb nail out of habit, I examine the drawing thoroughly in wonderment, "she's so beautiful ." I speak to no one in particular considering I live alone.
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Brushing my finger tips along the outline of her eyebrows to her lips I stare, eyes hazed over in a daze.
She looks so gentle for someone who is not even real, how can my dreams create her as some felony?
I woke up in a cold sweat fifteen minutes ago, with the odd itching desire to once again visualize/sketch out the girl I've been dreaming about for over a year now, the women I've made up in my head, the reacquiring dreams that are more like nightmares now.
The sketch took twelve minutes to create, I'm as clueless has in to how I was capable of doing such, though I've seem to be frequently partaking myself in the art lately, I closed my eyes picturing her in my mind the whole time and I've ended up with this drawing.
Moving my chair back my eyes scan the strings hung along my ceiling with 30 other sketches I've drawn of the fictional character, these are the times I'm glad no one comes over, don't need to add on to the list of peers who think I'm weird. I'm unique, or as my mom use to say just to make me feel better.
Five nights in a row, six sketches each night, and right on cue the same cold hands come in contact with my bare shoulder blades barely covered by the noodle strap of my tank top.
Shivers coursing from my head to my toes, she's feels so real.
"Oh but I am real baby." The voice husks out right next to my ear, hot breathing clouding the lobe.
She's an hallucination that has begun to appear the first night I woke in this cold sweat after I've dreamt of her for the thousandth time, after writing I move on to draw her in all her perfection, just like I remembered her in my dream.
"No your not Lauren, we've been over this." I sigh swirling my chair around to face a now empty room, frown upon my face.
"I see that frown, I know you want me here as much as you deny," she reappeared to the side of me gripping my bicep piercing eyes staring into mine forehead perched against mine, "come find me please." She's asked once again, face contorting into a demanding one not begging.
"Your not real, your made up, in here Lauren," I gesture to what's inside my head, "not out there." I finish pointing out my relatively large window.
The infamous devilish smirk plasters itself onto her goddess of a face, "You don't know that until you try..." she's moves closer so her breath is on my lips, "so try." She finished, and just like that she's gone again.
Sighing, I run my fingers through my hair leaning back against chair twiddling with the pencil still in hand.
I begin to think of her words, 'You don't know that until you try...', They have begun to stick making me wonder if she really is out there, but surely they're is a beautiful women that's looks like her walking this earth but it's not 'her'.
Shaking out of my thoughts I begin to start on the second drawing hearing a distant humming in my ear, 'I'm needed just as soon as I don't care to be lost in the convenience of your memory'.
