sometimes a dream is only a dream

I just had the oddest of dreams that actually woke me up with shortness of breath. So not only was I asleep but I was actually awakened.

In it I was crazy. Doing crazy stuff. Directed around by blue around by blue and red lights. Blue what where I should have been going. Red was where I shouldn’t have been going but where I was madly headed. Red is where she was. She was painted all in black. Like she had dyed her skin midnight black. Like a fucking ninja or something. And I kept trying to have a conversation with her, but she just wouldn’t. There two, sometimes three other people in the room sitting with her talking. They were effectively ignoring me but recognized my presence because they gave me stares that let me know I was mad. She would give me the brush off as normal.

Let’s back up. A little earlier in the dream, I had confronted her in what seemed like either a small apartment or maybe a dorm room. That ended poorly. I was trying to plead with her and getting shut out. I started getting frustrated, getting outwardly destructive. I was breaking things. I left to get something, I don’t remember what. Not a weapon, nothing like that. Something like a gift that I wanted to give to her. I don’t remember what it was, I left to get it. When I came back, she was in a different room, sitting with other people a single line of light blue, almost like a laser guiding me to a different direction, guiding me to where I should have gone. Instead I followed the line of red, guiding me to where I should not be, towards her.

As I pleaded with the woman, dyed black, I pleaded and was ignored. In the dream I felt myself getting crazy. I felt my mind ready to explode. I could feel my heart quickening, my breathing getting short. As I grew madder and madder I was shut out more and more and reacted in such a way as to go more desperate, more crazy. At the end, I neared the point where blood rage had set in, I was going to hurt someone, maybe all of them, even myself.

I know I have rage, I know I keep it hidden usually, controlled in real life. But even the dream scares me. Enough to have woken me up from the first real period of sleep I’ve had in a while. Even now, my chest is tight, I have to force deep breaths, I have to focus on slowing my heart.

Sometimes a dream is only a dream I suppose. But I rarely have them, even less so about her, and when I do dream of her, it’s usually a fantasy, a positive dream, reinforcing the hopes I once had. This though is the second times in as many months where the dreams have turned to nightmares. And pary that the dream is only that.

I’d also better be able to get back to sleep now dammit.