The journal of odd occurences

Dreams #3

I had the strangest dream yet. It was Wolf. In person. His voice was haunting and strange. It echoed through the halls. He was calling me by my real name. I believe the location was a big home, with several rooms. I dashed into a room and locked myself in. Yet he opened the door with ease. He giggled to himself as he danced around the room, immediately finding me behind the bed. Yet he pretended as if he could not see me. Was he playing a game? I got up from my spot and avoided him as best as possible as he walked around. The room wasnt very big, and so this was made difficult with the king sized bed smack in the middle. He'd gaze and walk around the room and laugh maniacally, with those glowing golden eyes. He wore a hoodie, and had a black tail swishing behind him. The hood was up on his head, engulfing most of his face in shadow. He continued to play with me until I fell upon the bed. Then, he slowly turned to look me in the eye. I was trembling under him, as I watched him climb the wall, ready to pounce on me from above. The very last second, I got up from the bed and dashed to the door, swinging it open. That is all that I recall.

There was a shorter one regarding him messaging me yet again. He asked: "What sort of cards exist in this world." I explained to him that i had meant Tarot cards. This could possibly mean that he will read all of my journals later on, as cards are in fact mentioned in my poem journal. He appeared irritated, perhaps due to the fact that he thought the poems were about him. He also said something else: "I'm not angry. Just bitter. I do hope you are innocent."

When will these dreams end? Perhaps never. Perhaps just tonight. Who can tell? I know they are warnings. Symbolic warnings. Dreams must never be taken at surface level.

I trust Wolf, but I wish he could find it just as easy to trust me. I speak my mind, I have never told him a single lie, and I've answered all that he asked. I've listened to him and done as he told me. I've never betrayed him. Not once. At least, not on purpose. Who is setting me up for trouble? Whom tells him: "she was the one that has done this." When I have not even hurt a fly? He does not know these things, however, does he? I try to tell him. Yet if I tell him I care, and because of that I would never do anything to upset him, I feel he would draw himself even further away from me.