Elm Street?

Woke up this morning with a kind of dread horror silhouette of myself floating around. I keep dreaming and dreaming nightmare versions of reality. I find myself writhing in horror desperate to shake off sleep and wake clear eyed into a rational morning. This morning I dreamt that everybody I know was laughing at me and talking at me and laughing. They were all shaking their heads at me and asking how could I have possibly expected it to turn any other way, didn't I know that everyone thought that Artboy was too good for me? Didn't I already know that?

It took four determined hours this morning to walk forwards and leave that dream behind. Yesterday morning I woke in a silent scream dreaming that he had lost his mind and gone screaming into the night never to return. I had both my arms stretched out, reaching for him, searching for traces of his body heat in the sheets and pillows.

This must be good, this must be good, this must be good. I am processing this. I am processing this so that I can shift it all slightly to the left and get the fuck on with my life. I just need to grit my teeth and keep walking straight through it.

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