Zitat von smegma am 17 Februar, 2007, 2131 Uhr

Today I awoke in the everday confusion that I tend to wake up in. Unable to tell dream from reality and confused by the vividness of the all to real nightmares that tend to haunt my dreams. In my own mind I find no sanctuary from Romulous the devient manipulator of my thoughts and feelings. I met him once again this last night of what one could call sleep for lack of a better word. He sat and stared never talking only watching. We sat in our battle of thoughts neither of us flinching from the all to common game of mental war waged on each other for control. No common ground can be met niether of us move back or forth an inch constantly trying to get the upperhand on the other. I strain not able to break consentration even for a moment or else I will be over run, trampled, thrown to the mental equalevalent of the side. Tossed to an uncertain fate of mental anquish from which there is no excape. His voice as always throws me off as he begins to speak. That voice so like my fathers so like the screams of a hundred tortured children. Yet it calls to me that edge of fatherly love I dare not go to. I yern to surrender and be obediant, the good and proper son. However even as I start to give in I know it is but a ruse and no real affection is held in that cold empty shell. So like the villians in my novels I so often find myself excaping to. Black shoulder length hair, eyes feeled with with loathing like endless pits of pain always watching me as if he wished nothing more than to bore through me to end me the one who has kept him captive for so long. Struggaling under the wieght of his voice I am unable to stop my self from listening. Not so much a voice as a perversion of my own thoughts. So much so that I dont even notice it is him until I pull myself out of it hours days later of hazy memory. In the end its always the voice my thoughts come to me in that awaken me from my stupor. That horrible gut wrenching voice as if Saten himself has choosen to invade my thoughts. Suddenly breaking the mental bout we plundge at each other in glorified battle. There the heros of my books come to my defence as my own demons come to his aid. We are locked in battle and yet arent it is but a part of my mind that goes on with this mockery of a contest. In the end no matter what he always wins. Then at the climax of the battle come the dreams or rather memories of a time forgoton but for the dream world and the occational flashback in the waking world. Dreams of yelling, cussing, abuse and things not so pleasant as those. Events so terrifing that my sleeping body cant take the terror. In the end I welcome these dreams but for the moment am I torn before waking to tears pressing against closed eyelids and a racing acheing chest. So close to the point of exploding that i feel as if I have burned myself out to the point of paralasyes.

This is just one of my average dreams or daydreams. I wonder if anyone else has them or has a Romulous of their own. Sorry for any gramatical errors I wasnt really watching for them.