wakeangel

Last night you came to me in a dream. You were cruel. You laughed as you clawed my heart out. There was anger, that borderlined on violence. I had to wake up but couldn't. It was like being a kid diving into the deepest part of a pool. You touch the bottom for the first time only to realize that you'd run out of air. You push off the bottom of the pool scratching, clawing for the surface but it seemed so far away, never getting any closer. The first moment you break the surface, it's not triumph that you feel at this little victory. It's relief as the fear subsides. That was how it felt to wake up in the middle of the night after you were there. Why does the mind do this to itself. What is my subconscience trying to tell me.