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My dreams that I have tended to forget have been haunting me as of late. As a child my dreams were terrifying. So much so that I taught myself that it was just easier to forget them. The horriable nights that I would wake myself and my mom. My crying that she could hear from below my bed. Only to rush up the stairs to wake me. The tears falling from my face, and nightmares straeming from my mouth. I know then that anything was better then remembering my hellish nights. So I learned to forget.

Now years later I try to cling on to what I can recall. Desperate to see a small piece I can recall after waking. After all a piece is still a piece. Only to have them slip through my fingers and mind as I wake.



Created: Apr 10, 2014

Tags: non-fiction

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