August 13th...3:27 a.m.
I can't sleep. Everynight it's the same thing. The same dream, the same nightmare. Each night it gets worse. The pain becomes more intense, more real. I see things, things I can't explain. Things that are familiar in a way I can't comprehend. With every passing night the dream becomes clearer than the last. The first dream came and went, only leaving me with chills. A month has now passed since the first dream. Now the dreams have become so vivid, so real, I wake up in a cold sweat screaming. I have been woken up from many of these dreams, no thanks to the help of my cousin sleeping next to me. She has said that she has shook me for twenty minutes straight. Shaking and yelling, trying to snap my out of my dream. But as soon as it begins, I become absorbed. In the pain and despair. In the greif and lies. I feel a great battle inside of myself. I feel emotions and hear thoughts. Screams of fear and despair fill my ears with high shrill voices. I see children dying, and families being seperated. Fire burning down what used to be a magnificent city. People running for their lives, and demons torturing their captives. The images are so vivid and graphic, I lie awake for the rest of the night. Staring at the glow in the dark stars plastered on my ceiling. At first I thought nothing of these dreams. After the first week, I realized they weren't just going to go away. I decided to record what happened after each occurance, while it was still fresh in my mind. I would then sneak down to my art studio generously provided by my godmother. I would remain locked in the small dark room, recreating the figures that haunted my dream until the sun rose the next day.
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It was the first day back at school. The first official Monday of the school year. Stacy rushed between rooms, up and down stairs. SHe covered the entire house in less than ten minutes. It became a pattern. Run down the tairs to the laundry room. Grab a shirt and rush back upstairs. Pick a pair of pants but decide it'd look better with a skirt and rush back to the laundry room.
I can't sleep. Everynight it's the same thing. The same dream, the same nightmare. Each night it gets worse. The pain becomes more intense, more real. I see things, things I can't explain. Things that are familiar in a way I can't comprehend. With every passing night the dream becomes clearer than the last. The first dream came and went, only leaving me with chills. A month has now passed since the first dream. Now the dreams have become so vivid, so real, I wake up in a cold sweat screaming. I have been woken up from many of these dreams, no thanks to the help of my cousin sleeping next to me. She has said that she has shook me for twenty minutes straight. Shaking and yelling, trying to snap my out of my dream. But as soon as it begins, I become absorbed. In the pain and despair. In the greif and lies. I feel a great battle inside of myself. I feel emotions and hear thoughts. Screams of fear and despair fill my ears with high shrill voices. I see children dying, and families being seperated. Fire burning down what used to be a magnificent city. People running for their lives, and demons torturing their captives. The images are so vivid and graphic, I lie awake for the rest of the night. Staring at the glow in the dark stars plastered on my ceiling. At first I thought nothing of these dreams. After the first week, I realized they weren't just going to go away. I decided to record what happened after each occurance, while it was still fresh in my mind. I would then sneak down to my art studio generously provided by my godmother. I would remain locked in the small dark room, recreating the figures that haunted my dream until the sun rose the next day.
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It was the first day back at school. The first official Monday of the school year. Stacy rushed between rooms, up and down stairs. SHe covered the entire house in less than ten minutes. It became a pattern. Run down the tairs to the laundry room. Grab a shirt and rush back upstairs. Pick a pair of pants but decide it'd look better with a skirt and rush back to the laundry room.