Bad Dream

We dream every night of our sleep. Some we can still remember as we wake up, but mostly are left lying there. Just there. In our dream. And there’s no way we can retrieve them.

I woke up late in the morning. And it wasn’t a nice sleep. Although my eyes are closed and my body is at rest, my mind continues thinking about subconscious matters and I feel restless. Especially when this dream starts bothering me over and over again or should I say almost every night of this week’s sleeps. And whenever I wake up, I could feel tears dashing down my eyes. A not so good start for my day I believe. Thus I still have to wear a smile throughout the day and stay positive. I had to convince myself that my dreams are just dreams, brought about by my playful mind.

Dreams are series of images. It was a dark room. No much light I can see except for a light that is slowly coming nearer to me. Suddenly, I felt afraid. That’s the first picture. Then another of a man, standing. Not that big man but has bulky muscles. All I can remember is his eyes. His monster-like eyes, almost red, so big. And I can hear sobs, sobs that is full of hurt, pain, and sorrows. Cries that is filled with terror and fright. Only to find out that it’s my father hitting me with a piece of wood, slapping my face and shouting at me. I can hear no sound coming from him, but I can feel the aching I was bearing right at that moment, as if it was real. Perhaps, it is indeed a part of my darkest memories. I almost wanted to wake up, but there’s something pushing me to keep going with my dream. And another scene, I can see my mom walking with a lady, shopping around, so happy and gay. While me, stays somewhere in a corner. A separate dark corner, alone. I remember my latest sentiments to my mom that she would not want to go out with me and walk around the city. She would insist that she’s busy but in the evening, I would just find out that she just went out with her best friend. I would suddenly feel hurt, for choosing her best friend over her daughter. But I cannot keep the pain. I let it go and understand.

Maybe, that’s the sense of my dreams. That I let go of the pain but not the memory of what caused the pain. My subconscious mind reminds me of my past and of my sentiments but I don’t know yet why remind me of those dark moments and painful thoughts. All I know is that I have to push through with life though I had a bad sleep.