Demons

The night before last I dreamt about a conference hall. Someone got murdered. I was rubbing shoulders with the likes of Britney Spears, Bill Gates and SM. I escaped from the scene. I was running like mad, kind of like one of those chase-scenes in movies. When I went back, everyone had left, and thus no one would ever believe that I had met those people, making it felt that what happened was a dream.

A dream within a dream.

Last night I dreamt that I accidentally killed someone with my M16. And I was charged for murder and was supposed to be hanged the very next day. I panicked. I told my parents that I loved them and I was so sorry that I couldn't repay them for bringing me up. I thought of the last words that I would write in my blog to all my friends. And the fact that it didn't really matter because I wouldn't be there to see their replies. I thought of lying to myself to believe in life after death so that I wouldn't be so afraid.

The dream was so fucking real. My brain was working on overdrive and I was thinking of all the possibilities, like escaping the country or something. I realise that although the situation was made up, the emotions and my thoughts about the whole thing was very real.

I woke up, stunned, after a mere 5 hours of sleep.

Trying to make sense of all the demons in my head.