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Dreams.

What's the first thing that comes to mind when you hear that word?

Sleep?  Bed?  Peace and quiet?  Blankets?  Pillows?  Nighttime?  The moon?  The stars?  The galaxy?

Nightmares....?

An interesting concept, dreams are.  You willingly allow yourself to fall into a peaceful state of unconsciousness so your body can, what?  Repair itself and its damaged parts?  Soothe your mind from the activities you endured that day?  Try to forget all the pain that life brings?

Unfortunately for me, that's where the nightmares come in.

Nightmares.  What is the true definition of a nightmare, anyway?  Google may tell you they're frightening or unpleasant dreams, but they're so much more than that.  Nightmares are the reason your blood runs cold in the middle of the night.  They're the reason you jolt awake in a sweat, searching in the darkness of your room for someone lurking in the shadows.  They're the reason your heart beats out of your chest as you peer into the inky blackness of your closet, just waiting for a pair of blood red eyes to gleam in the night.  They're the reason you dread being alone, because who knows what could be out there in the darkness?

Nightmares are the very reason why my life is in shambles.

You may think I'm being dramatic, that everyone has nightmares and that they're nothing to be afraid of.  Stress can cause nightmares.  Depression can cause nightmares.  Sleep disorders can cause nightmares.  Nearly everything imaginable in life can cause nightmares, but does that make them any easier to deal with?

Not at all.

Chronic nightmares are my problem.  Every night, at the same exact time, I bolt upright in my bed, shaking and sweating and crying to myself in the lonely darkness of my room.  Maybe I died in my nightmare.  Maybe someone I love died.  Maybe I was being tortured and subjected to such agony that I simply could not stay asleep.  Not all of my nightmares are the same, but I've noticed a common theme as I sit curled up in my blankets, desperately trying to ward off the demons haunting me in the night.  I sit there and wait for daylight, yearning to see that faint blue light of dawn peering through my curtains.  Then I know I'm safe.

Not many people know about my nightmares.  Maybe I'm too afraid to tell them that I scream my throat raw in the middle of the night because I see my friends butchered before me.  Maybe I'm petrified of being judged, that my nightmares are just normal occurrences and that I shouldn't be concerned.  Maybe I'm too proud to ask for help, despite my crippling exhaustion and sleep deprivation.  I'm surprised I haven't dropped dead yet.

I should ask for help.  I really should.  My friends tell me every day that I look awful, that my eyes are darker than ever.  They tell me I look like a walking corpse, my skin pale and pallid and gray.  They think I'm just stubborn.  They think I don't sleep because I have work to do.  Little do they know I lie awake in the darkness every night, whimpering and sobbing because I'm terrified to close my eyes.  I don't know what I'll see behind them when I do.

I was planning on just dealing with it until the day I died, both my pride and fear of socialization holding me back from asking for help.  It seemed like a foolproof plan at the time, and I was going to stick with it until I heard on the news that a new therapist had moved into town.  And not just any old therapist.

A dream therapist.

I didn't even know such a thing existed in the world.  A dream therapist?  How does that even work?  Do you sleep in their office while they take notes on your activity?  It almost sounds disturbing, but the talk among the town began to tell me otherwise.  People all across town were gushing about this dream therapist and how he changed their lives for the better, and suddenly, I thought that maybe it isn't such an awful thing to ask for help.  He's new in town, anyway, so he doesn't know who I am.  Why not give it a shot?

On Wednesday morning, just after the sun begins to peek over the horizon and casts a soft orange glow across the land, I pick up the phone and, with trembling hands, make an appointment with Dr. Urie.


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Welcome to a new adventure!  Once again, like my other story Affliction, this is all pre-written.  I started it around July, and I'm so happy to finally share it with you guys.  I really hope you enjoy it because it's honestly one of my favorite stories I've ever written, so remember to vote/comment/share with your pals if you did!  Thanks so much! <3

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