I turned the Kardashians off and decided to take a nap. The rain was falling the and the sound was so soothing that it did not take very long for me to go to dreamland.
I am a dreamer. As soon as I fall asleep, anytime, anywhere, I dream. I usually enjoy my dreams, and since I began to learn the art of the lucid dream, the nightmares do not take as big of a toll on me as they once did.
Before I knew it, I was back at my mother’s house. The only house I ever knew her to live. The same house she shared with my wretch of a step-father.
The neighbors who, in real life, just moved in next door to my house, needed a place to stay for a while, in dreamland, and I offered them to stay at my mom’s house and they accepted.
My mom was not there, neither was the step-monster. It was just me and the real neighbors in my mother’s house. They stayed in my brother’s old room and rarely did they come out where I could see them.
I remember being in my mother’s room but behind a desk with a bed for a chair. I was using a computer but I don’t remember why, and then I got sleepy. I was drifting off to sleep and one of the neighbors came out of my brother’s room and went to the kitchen to make a drink. I could hear the ice maker churning. I wanted to tell her that if she and her husband were too hot, that the window unit worked really well in that room, but it was very noisy. I was not able to tell her because I had already fallen asleep.
I started dreaming within my dream that I was at my dad’s funeral. Nobody told me he was sick or dying. I remember feeling very sad and tears wanting to come out of my face in the dream within the dream.
I fought those tears as hard as I could. I fought them with anger. I went directly to my little sister, and punched her in the face at the funeral home.
I then started to wake from the dream within the dream, but I was still dreaming. It was really, really hard to wake from one, much less, both of them. But, by pure force of will, I did.
I am super-groggy.