Some people say that dreams mean something.
That we can improve on ourselves by using their meaning to discover our faults.
If that was the case, I should be dreaming a lot more, figuring by how much self-improvement -or lack thereof- I'd done in the past year. In fact, it was more like a self-decline; a slow, steady retreat into darkness and helplessness. But then again, some people say that dreams are a reflection of our day-to-day problems, playing over and over again until we wake up.
In that case, I should be dreaming less, counting all the many problems I had; large and small. Because considering how much I thought about me problems when I was aake, I shouldn't be thinking about them that much when I'm asleep. That couldn't be helping me 'move on'.
But in either case, either interpretation of dreams meaning, this dream did not fit in. Not in the slightest.
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When I woke up, I was in the hunger games arena. An exact replica. At first, I assumed it was a joke played by one of my friends, until I remembered my great lack of friends. I looked around at the tributes as I began to get slightly scared. They were all either: A) grinning maliciously B) Looking scared out of their wits, or C) Concentrating deeply on their thoughts.
I'd say I was an even mix of B and C.
"Fourteen, thirteen, twelve, eleven..." the monotonous voice echoed, as he continued to count down t the start of the games. I looked around once more. It seemed to be the same arena as in the books... was it the seventy fourth hunger games? But there were none of the tributes from the books, so I assumed it was a different number, and my brain just wasn't happy or imaginative enough to came up wth anything better. But, I figured, it was just a dream right? Sure, it was scary, but I could do anything and not die. However, I didn't exactly feel the urge or need to kill someone, even in a dream, so I just decided to run and grab bag from the center.
"Three, two, one.... May the fifty third hunger games... begin!"
I ran to the center, somehow managing not to be dream-killed by thrown knives and scary peoples axes. I grabbed a random bag, figured it must be good by how heavy it was, and got the heck outta there. Once I figured I got far enough away from centre, I plopped down on the ground, and decided to go through my knapsack after caching my breath. I ran my hand through my loose blond hair, wishing I had a hair tie, looked around to make sure no one was running up to kill me then opened the knapsack.
I looked inside to see it was full of... jellybeans?
I groaned. Of all the things to get, I got jellybeans. Just my luck. I was going to die a horrible, painful death now. I was utterly screwed. I was hungry, so I decided to have some, digging around first to make sure there wasn't anything underneath them. There wasn't. I ate a purple jellybean, but began to feel sick afterwards. I felt naseous and my vision was going fuzzy, as well as sharp pains in my stomach
As I started to lose consiousness, I only thought one thing.
Poison.
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