I rather hate sleeping. I’d rather be working on projects than wasting my life in the worlds of my own dreams. I especially would prefer this given that my dreams are nearly always nightmares, dark and disturbing. I’ve died a million times in my sleep and I will die a million more. But, I am not the only one dead in my subconscious’ imaginings. The line, most nights, between nightmare and desire blurs as my mind tries to reconcile the self-destructive path of the psychopath with her latent destructive tendencies. I just can’t tell – most of the time – whether the rivers of blood in my dreams are my own or that of those around me. Yes, these are the uncontrollable releases of the sleeping mind, but these dreams still occupy the space between nightmare and fantasy.
Before I was confirmed to be psychopathic and, more importantly, before my therapist and I really tackled the realm of my dark mind, these dreams would often lead to terror in which I would wake screaming in the night. Recurring nightmares of the eyeless and mouthless would fill my nights. They still do at times, but now I realize that these dreams are the releases of a mind that is constantly fighting the lifelong battle of restraint. Every time I lay my head down, I know not whether the blood in those visions will be mine or someone else’s. The line between bloodlust and self-destruction, as in real life, is fine in my subconscious.