Depth

In my dream, I was still hurting. In real life, I'm getting used to it.

Why am I getting tormented by myself unconsciously?

The scenes from my childhood were mixed with visions of the recent past, and they brought forth a new kind of sensations along. The long road to the farm is now triggering forged memories that never should have existed in the first place.

It is certainly a mystery.

I let free of the reins and carried to someplace that I didn't expect. No other alternatives were left but to let the torrent of emotions run free. It was vivid and indistinguishable from reality.

Although I am fine, I am still not recovering. It is still there, above my head, hovering and waiting to extend its tendrils into my head and toy with my mind.

In my dream, I can fly. In reality, I am wingless.

Taking up the wings of others, forcefully tearing them off to the vast sky. Unflinching, unfazed by the blood. Butchering those trapped inside the web and letting the other victims watch. The spider is merciless, but it is just trying to fly.