In my dreams, I tried to ran as fast as I could, away from something, or toward something, but I seem to be running in slow motion
There I would be flying, but I seem to be flying really low, and then I find myself falling.
In my dreams, I would oftentimes end up in this place, kinda like a mall, but I can’t quite identify the place. Walking. Walking, And then I’d find myself elsewhere.
Sometimes, I would try to put my contact lens on, but the small circular soft object suddenly would expand and grow bigger than my eyes and I’m unable to fit them.
There I would see my father, talking to me. But I can’t seem to figure out a word he’s saying. He’s right beside me, but I can’t hear him.
Dreams they say are by-products of our imagination, of our subconsciousness. But most of the time, or almost always, I don’t understand them.
I don’t want live in my dreams.
They frighten me.