It’s said you have a different dream every five seconds while you sleep, but you’re lucky to remember just one of those dreams. A dream is supposed to be something your heart wants or needs, something you cannot do without. So why is it that I’ve never dreamt? Why is it, when they put me down to monitor my dream rate, nothing showed? Something isn’t right with my mind. It’s never been completely all there. My story is one that takes place deep within a dream, a story that may hold some truth for some of you, for others it might scare you into never dreaming again. Oh, you still want to hear the story? Well, alright, but remember, I warned you.
It was, oh, about five years ago now when I got stuck in this building. I was a naïve twelve-year-old who wanted nothing more than to please her masters. I was like every other girl… Well, maybe not. You see, I’m mentally insane. I was diagnosed as insane when I was ten. I drowned my baby brother because he wouldn’t stop crying. It was my parents fault, really. They left me in charge of a five-year-old boy for three days when I was ten. Yeah, nice family.
Well, I honestly wasn’t insane back then. Mainly because I wasn’t the one who had killed my brother. I was a carefree soul who wanted nothing more than to share my joy with the world. Yeah, I was just a bundle of joy. But my parents didn’t want to fess up to having actually been there, so they fed the court some bull s**t about my temper and me being the happy kid I was, I was too stupid to defend myself. So they sent me to an insane asylum for trouble children. I listened to my handlers and did what I was told for two years… Until I finally snapped. I’ll tell you now, this is where the story begins. My life as a prisoner of my own dreams.
Light… What is light? Something I can see? Something I can touch? Maybe- My thoughts were cut off as the metal door to my white room banged open. I sat up on my bed, bringing my knees up under my chin and wrapping my arms around my legs. I watched the man in white bring in a tray of food and lay it on the edge of my bed. He watched me warily as he began to back out of the room. I watched him with curious eyes for a moment.
“Where’s Ann?” I asked, tilting my head and naming the woman who normally brought the food. Anna was nice. She always brought me an extra cookie.
 tinkr-tailr-sldr-spy · Thu Oct 09, 2008 @ 05:51am · 0 Comments |
