Dreaming in Envy

Lucid dreaming with hints of clandestine memories. I don’t wake up to write them down anymore. Optical illusions that breed through the sunlight of the shutters, basking in the reflections of my brain. They say that dreaming is your subconscious trying to tell you something. It doesn’t always feel valuable, these dreams. Sometimes, they bring me out of my sleep, jolting awake with beads of sweat coming down my neck. I sink back into my pillow– soft and plump, mirrored on my cheek, blushing with indentations of people I do not recognize. There was once that I saw myself, standing in front of glass, except I’m not sure if it was me or the image created of myself. I tried to turn the light on but to no avail, stuck in the darkness. How I envy the pleasant dreamers! No terrors to speak of! Awake inside the dreams, they glide across the sky rimmed planes, cuddled onto an angel. They are the ones who live.