Anorex-a-Gogo
Dreams Fade
In a matter of seconds my wish comes true as I drift back into sleep that brings me a dream of Gerard crawling out of my cell phone just to sing me to sleep...
But the worst thing about dreams is...they fade. Dreams fade and become nightmares filled with all of your worst fears.
The alien in your closet.
Your father who didn't come home that night when you were seven.
Your psychiatrist parents who might be too blind to realize what's going on.
Your Gerard who is too far away to keep you safe.
The monster under the bed.
Dreams fade and become reality, like a bucket of freezing cold water on your face. When you wake up and you wish you weren't alone. But then you see that you're not alone, and you start to wish that you really were.
Nightmares become the most real, the truest things you've ever experienced. Like Owen walking through your bedroom door, his white teeth shiny in the blackness that suddenly seems ominous and threatening. Like him climbing up onto your bed and covering your mouth with his hand. Like his pocket knife, glinting in the moonshine.
Although at that moment, that sort of physical pain is almost welcome.
Because you'd much rather bleed from your skin than from your heart. Your heart hurts much worse.
Especially when dreams fade and turn into nightmares, but you're really awake and you can't scream.
You can't scream for your mother.
You can't scream for your father.
And you can't scream for Gerard, who is too fucking far away to keep me safe like he promised.
But the worst thing about dreams is...they fade. Dreams fade and become nightmares filled with all of your worst fears.
The alien in your closet.
Your father who didn't come home that night when you were seven.
Your psychiatrist parents who might be too blind to realize what's going on.
Your Gerard who is too far away to keep you safe.
The monster under the bed.
Dreams fade and become reality, like a bucket of freezing cold water on your face. When you wake up and you wish you weren't alone. But then you see that you're not alone, and you start to wish that you really were.
Nightmares become the most real, the truest things you've ever experienced. Like Owen walking through your bedroom door, his white teeth shiny in the blackness that suddenly seems ominous and threatening. Like him climbing up onto your bed and covering your mouth with his hand. Like his pocket knife, glinting in the moonshine.
Although at that moment, that sort of physical pain is almost welcome.
Because you'd much rather bleed from your skin than from your heart. Your heart hurts much worse.
Especially when dreams fade and turn into nightmares, but you're really awake and you can't scream.
You can't scream for your mother.
You can't scream for your father.
And you can't scream for Gerard, who is too fucking far away to keep me safe like he promised.