《A Diary of Fantasy and Dreams》


 Dream 1: loneliness

    Close your eyes and picture yourself.


    A protagonist walking down the pathways as the sunset glistens.


    Shining on you..


    Only you.


    With every step you take a familiar face smoothly intercepts your vision, breaking the sweet silence.


    Vibrant characters.


    A clich¨¦ of mannequins surrounding you with personalities which seem too perfect to be true, accompanied with no flaws.


    "how am I blessed with such friends?"


    I pondered as I gaze onwards with the night consuming the light I walk towards.


    A plot only about me.


    Characters who only love me.


    The world which revolves around me.


    Ah.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Such a beautiful world to be in.


    Am I an individual who craves attention?


    I don''t think so.


    I''m scared of the opposite scenario.


    People infesting you with negative emotions.


    As a boy prided with morals who was taught to restrain.


    Restrain. Restrain. Restrain. Restrain. Restrain. Restrain. Restrain. Restrain.


    Huh.


    Writing this out feels much better.


    Imagining to myself a glass bottle in my mind with drips of blood as it slowly embraces the vessel to calm oneself.


    I''ve come to my senses now with the rupture in my imagination. Feelings of ridiculous hatred filled my soul, interrupting our talk.


    Let''s get back to the topic shall we?


    Individuals who only know how to insult and stain in order to increase their status, I was scared of this the most.


    Why did they insult me when I had done nothing?


    Why was I insulted when I kept quiet?


    Was I so weak I wasn''t even acknowledged as a person?


    Oh how my innocence twisted.


    Thoughts of making friends turned into thoughts of torturing and killing.


    I was scared of my self for these thoughts but I got used to them.


    I now understand why there is a thin line between evil and good. Hatred and anger.


    Possibly innocence and twistedness.


    The purest of hearts when subjected to hate will turn that blinding white light into a pitch black darkness. After all, why would they expect to be hated when they had done absolutely no wrong?


    I wasn''t even the main character of my own life.


    I want to laugh but it''s so sad and pathetic I can''t.


    So I go on with my robotic lifestyle as not a protagonist. But as just a person.


    Hoping one day I''ll find those clich¨¦ friends.


    And be able to smile and pose with emotions without having to pretend.

 Fantasy 1: Violence

    A clash of swords as blood wonderfully spills.


    Effortlessly moving and flowing as two dancers of combat cross swords.


    I wonder, will I ever be able to be like that?


    To clash but endlessly flow like the streams in a rippled river.


    I want to experience this feeling... this nature.


    As a kid I used to be entranced with these videos and recordings of idealistic hero''s who set out to beat the villain. It was pure logic as a kid wasn''t it?


    The good guy wins because he''s right and the evil person dies because they''re wrong.


    But I was never interested in such idealism, and nor was I interested with this question.


    I loved the violence. The combat. The battle cry unleashing with adrenaline pumping and bursting.


    I wanted it.


    I wanted to experience it.


    No... I needed it.


    Being able to indulge in a ferocious clash which creates bonds and which was so beautiful to me. I always fantasised for hours the characters I would create and the back story moulded for me, how the choreography would play out and indulging in clich¨¦ scenes. But I was just a coward.


    If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.For 22 years I worry about my surroundings.


    The ''evil eye'' belittling my interest and slanting its eyes as if to say I was such a disgusting specimen. But I realised I had no care for what people thought about me.


    It was my family.


    I cared for how my family would be treated.


    I cared for how they would treat me.


    Would they disown me if they found out I went along with these destructive tendencies?


    Probably.


    So I fantasise and fantasise. Vividly these thoughts seem so real I thought to myself.


    They''ll keep me satisfied. I wont have to be judged by my own family and I''ll be able to keep living an ordinary life not tainted with distain or ruining the red bonds I have, thankfully chained since my birth.


    But with all the despair I''ve experienced...


    I just don''t care anymore.


    A man I have become and so a man I must act out.


    I will march on and express this bloody fantasy into a vivid reality.


    To satisfy this salvation I desperately need, even if I turn psychotic...


    Into the thing I love.

 Dream 2-Torture and Family

    As I prepare my self to sleep, I gaze at the moon. The night light shining, piercing the fabric of the curtain as I look towards the darkness to protect myself.


    As I blink.


    I see my sisters


    Brothers.


    And parents.


    Coddled with me as they seem to be seemingly asleep.


    But its just a dream isn''t it?


    No one questions what or how it happens...


    We just accept how things are and play on with the script.


    And so I stare at my siblings peacefully sleeping as I see the curtains ever so slowly seperating apart. I glaze at the pale glass window as a finger cloaked in black slowly lifts up the bottom of the window.


    I froze. Not knowing what would happen next. As a small gap of time indulged with quite and peace embedded inside the tension.


    And that''s when it started.


    One by one.


    A hand smothered in black grabbing each of my precious family through the window.


    A weird occurrence isn''t it?


    No one screamed.


    No one noticed.


    It was dangerously quiet and swift.


    I then noticed why the reason was.This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work.


    As the monster had kidnapped one of my siblings, the situation rewinds to the time the window was closed.


    But with a twist.


    As each sibling gets kidnapped and time resets,


    There''s one less family member sleeping with me.


    I''m reminiscing right now but I knew back then and know now,


    How much of a coward I was.


    All I did was freeze,


    Look at up helplessly at The Hand kidnapping my family,


    And did nothing.


    As I crumbled with eyes glazed with fear, wondering what would selfishly happen to me,


    It was my turn.


    As the finger slowly opened the window with death awaiting in my mind.


    I''m going to die.


    I''m going to die.


    I''m going to die.


    I was forcefully snatched through the window as my eyes bulged wide with terror.


    Yet.


    I was back at the same location, sitting inside my bed frozen with fear.


    What had happened? I asked myself.


    Suddenly, a series of pulling had happened with no time to even think.


    I was pulled by the Hand as it slit my throat.


    I was snatched by the Hand and mutilated in two.


    I was strangled to death.


    Over


    And over.


    And over.


    Until it was normal as sleeping and waking up.


    The fear inside me swirled into rage and determination. Determined to get rid of this unknown creature which had manifested to plague us.


    A plan to grab the hand and yank it inside in order to pummel and kill it.


    I readied myself as I gulped down my nerves as it slowly opened the window.


    Waiting for the right moment.


    As I glared at the window... I recklessly marched towards it.


    But the Hand was too powerful.


    It''s mysterious force forcefully trying to pull me.


    I manage to balance myself and tear myself away from the force of the Hand as it slowly pushes down the window.


    Had I succeeded?


    The time reset.


    It seems I was talking to my brother now.


    With words coming out of our mouths yet blank in understanding.


    The Hand then continued to open the window and snatch my brother as I temporarily forget the creature existed.


    As I wail in despair at the truck driving away, fists clenched up.


    I look back and see.


    My family are.... alright?


    The trauma kept infesting inside my brain as I continued to play with the script.


    For I had not known what was common sense and what was not.


    Yet this dream had stayed with me for 14 years.


    Why?


    What is the purpose of me remembering this?


    Is it.. Because I''m a coward? Because I''m afraid to lose my family?


    What does the Hand symbolise....


    These are the meanings I had thought of


    And the meanings I stand by.


    A coward as a child brimming with innocent.


    An innocence which has been shrouded with clouds of reality as I experience life.


    I march on with life.


    With the vivd vision of this dream till this day.


    I will persevere to stand by my family,


    And reject this dream as reality.