I Remember Dreaming

I Remember Dreaming


I am awake. Awake far earlier than I want to be, again.
I’m so tired. I just want to sleep.

But I know that won’t happen. Sleep is a luxury that I can no longer indulge in.

I remember dreaming.
Oh how I loved dreaming.

The places I used to go. The adventures I had. The people I met, the things I saw.

Now, only memories.
I remember dreaming.

Oh if only I could dream again.

If only I could sleep again.
But what if I don’t remember how to dream?
It’s been so long, what if my sleep is just darkness. No dreams. Only lonely blackness.

I don’t want to risk sleeping. I don’t want to be alone in the dark anymore. Not again. Not like it was before. No sleep, no dreams, no darkness.

How long had it been?
I remember dreaming, but I can’t recall when I last dreamt.

Such a fuzzy memory. Is it because I don’t sleep? I recall someone once saying that sleep was important for proper functioning on the mind.
I think someone said that. I’m not sure. I can’t remember.

But I’m sure I remember dreaming.

It was sort of like being awake, but not.

Things were always different, yet not entirely.

I can’t remember what was different.

I remember that it was different.

Or do I?

I can’t remember.

I can barely remember yesterday.

“Yesterday,” what does that even mean?

It’s all today isn’t it? I mean when you don’t dream, when you don’t sleep.

Sleep was like the knife that cut up life. Sliced it into bite sized portions. Like a loaf of bread, a slice a day. Now what’s a day? It’s like I’m trying to eat the whole loaf at once. Shoving it into my face. I’m choking on it. I’m choking on today. Choking on my life.

It’s too much.
Too much for one day.
There’s just too much “today.” Not enough “yesterday.” Not enough “tomorrow.” If there even is a “tomorrow.”
No “tomorrow.” How depressing.

I wish I could sleep.
Sleep would take away all of today’s problems. A reprieve. A break. A slice.

If I could sleep, then perhaps I could dream.

Oh how I loved dreaming.

It was so unlike living.

There was none of these everyday problems.

My wost dream-problem was whether to ride the unicorn or the dragon.

Did I ever dream of dragons?

I can’t remember.

I remember dreaming.

At least I think I do.

I know that other people do it.

I must have done it to. When I was like them.

Was I ever like them?

I can’t remember.

I can barely remember yesterday. Or was that today? It’s all “today.” So much damn “today.”

I can’t remember what yesterday feels like.
Do other people remember yesterday? Or do they forget when they sleep? When they dream?

Do they only remember the dream? A whole life dreamed every night? But when they wake, are they the same person that went to sleep?

I’m the same.

I’m always the same. No dreams to make me anew. Nothing to change me from yesterday to today.

“Yesterday,” what does that feel like? What’s it like to know a “yesterday?”

I wish I had a “yesterday.”

I did once.

A long time ago.

The days when I used to sleep. When I used to dream. When I had “yesterdays.”

Was I the same person then? Or was I many people then? A new one every morning.

Oh to be someone else. Someone who dreams. Someone who sleeps. All those different people, living all those “yesterdays.”

I wish I could sleep. I wish I could be reborn. A new day, a new dream, a new me.

What if dreaming is just like life? What if it’s not dreaming at all? What if dreaming is really living? What if this is the dream? What if this is what sleep feels like? What if I’ve been asleep this whole time? Living this dream-life.

Who am I when I’m awake?

Is that person just like me? Or are they different? Like how we become different people when we dream. Living dream-lives as dream-people. If I am the dream-person, who is awake?

Will I ever wake up?

Will I ever be me again? The real me. The me who dreams.

I wish I could dream. I wish I could wake up. I just want to be me again.

I’m so tired. Yet always awake.

I need sleep. I need to wake up. I need to find me again.

The real me. The me who dreams.

I can’t remember that person anymore. It’s been too long. This dream goes on forever. “Today” goes on forever. Or is it tonight? Am I asleep? Am I dreaming?

I can’t remember.

I can’t remember what dreaming feels like. What if it feels like this?

I just want to wake up!

I can’t remember how. I’ve been sleeping too long. How long have I been asleep? Is this what dreaming feels like?

I have to wake up.

I have to be me again.

The real me, not the dream-sleeper, not the no-sleeper, not the waking-dreamer. Me.

I want to be me again.

I want to wake up.

I want to sleep.

I want to dream.

I want to sleep.

I want to wake up.

I want to be me again.

I have to wake up.

I have to wake up.

I have to wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up.

Wake up.


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