Borrowing

I can't find my journal and I need it now more than ever.  This will have to do...

10:17  He's playing Dark Souls II and has been for the past (almost) hour to my recollection.  The point is I am in the newly arranged living room (which I like) and my dream is still on my mind.  Truly, the reason is I have refused a dream - that is unlike me, so unlike me.  I like to keep them coming as much as possible to scrape together the plots.  Somehow though, I was wholly afraid and whimpered, "No..."

It is an old dream but now the characters I once didn't care about have meaning to me.  They have stories now because they are now the stories of my friends and my family, here, dear to me in respect.  How?  I haven't had this dream since I was in high school at the most recent but I remember it's origins from a much younger time.

I was wearing my glasses (which is the first recalled time) and things were not as bright and clear as possible.  It was my birthday and a flop at that - I was so dead and so... not quite happy.  But I saw my stepmothers, they were trying to fix the toilet.  I'm not sure why bathrooms are always so strange or not working my dreams (evil coincidences that I rather not get into right meow).  I saw Craig with a girl (jealous, just a touch) and my moms.  Those were the main characters I cared about.  Now, there's a hard break that's... difficult to explain.  My dream separates into two corrupt and strange paths but they are on and the same.

Because it is now the day after my birthday in this strange house, my friends are packing up to leave.  My mother politely suggests (and by politely, she tells me to do it) that I go out and eat with them.  But I can't feel hungry (odd again).  I have no real desire to eat except noodles once the coupons have been passed out.  My friends are already leaving before I make up my mind and I run to catch up with them passing two children, one standing in front of a glass of round bouncy balls.

Around this event is when the break occurs:  I'm suddenly whisked away to a village, dying with no sense of pain or reason and laid out on my stomach.  I can't see, I can't feel until a stranger comes to lie on me and whispers something.  Despite asking what it was he said, I don't remember it - I only remember I know immediately the source of the voice and I am shaken with joy.  But it soon fades when it's replaced by another who's come, to literally do something I'm not too keen on explaining.  Not inside though, never inside and soon when I finally lift my head I spot several silver hairs on my robe.  It was him, it was him, I'll never see him again!  Panicking I push off my assailant, even if by ritual and adherence to custom, wrap the strands around my hand and run.  Unsure of where, but knowing I need to be I just blindly run in all directions.  Jerk catches on and chases me, trying to steal away the hairs, the only things I have left of him.  It broke my heart to think I might lose them.  Suddenly, I spun on my heel and punched him as many times as my arms could allow (here).  So tired.

Then the dream continues where I am with my friends again.  I cannot see all their faces, just that he is there.  It's like a maddening infection - I hate it.  I sometimes wish I could strangle out parts of my emotions so that they would choke and die.  What need.

The internet brought a strange part in - a game much like one I'll look up later so as not to further distract me.  Units.  I didn't have the unit I wanted.  The silver haired one because it reminded me of him.  I've spoken of multiple hims now.  Suddenly a cut to FFVII where Craig has hacked it with mods to do silly things like change the size of Cloud (thank you random Thor-Loki comic).  Not too terribly important except I saw him sitting there playing games much like he does in his desk chair.  Not that... I've ever seen him like that.  Don't recall, unimportant.

On the edge of a departed world we set foot outside.  What was once a destination to a charming location, a beautifully edged forest had now become voluminous water.  I can't remember where the sky began or the ocean ended for the buildings we stood on and in the distance there wasn't any ground.  This scene is the scene I am not most afraid of.  Somehow I looked at all the people surrounding me and I feel... sad.  For once.  I know what's coming next.

I have to die.  It's time to leave because I know that I'm needed elsewhere and for the first time I am scared to, sad to.  It hurts so much because even though this is a skyscraper (what else could it have been) I always turn to say something but this time, it comes out differently.  Let's dig.

"Will... we always be friends?"  It's something like that I feel in my heart.

His answer is lost on me.  I'm not sure because it is something that is... not decided yet. 

Jumping would be death to me.  I'm going to die and there's nothing I can do other than not to jump.  And yet, I would be letting down so many people if I did or didn't.  Have you ever felt so young?  Not quite grown?  Death was like a barrier into me becoming an adult.  But not quite - it was more important than that because it was also the barrier into me seeing him again.  I've never been held back by something so strongly. 

Those feelings are hard to accept, the fact that they came to haunt me.  Somehow, why did it feel like dying... I would become something not quite me but completely and wholly me?  Why was that scary?  Because it's change, it's different, it's admittance that things can be better and take me to new heights (or lows, bad joke?). 

Committing suicide as it appears in my dream is really suicide - it's akin to drawing the Death card in Tarot for the most part.  Somehow, dying, would allow me to mature into a wonderful adult. 


That's the decision I think I face now.  But why is there fear?  And why do I fear it.