I dreamt we were still living in our old country house. There was some kind of storm tornado coming and it was a little bit frightening. The house was all shaking and cracking. There was water running down the ceiling and along the walls. My bed, for example, was completely wet (I didn’t pee). It felt like the house was a sealed shelter under raging water, and if the walls gave in we would all drown in midair, carried by the wind.

Me and my family were running up and down the stairs. Trying to fix this and that, checking walls and screaming to one another. Despite the tornado and everything, we were discussing family shit. Somehow talking about old grudges and accusing one another. It makes no sense, but it was a dream.

I dreamt I was walking the street with my Rottweiler (though I don’t have a dog anymore). It was my friend, naturally, but it was constantly pulling very hard and I had trouble holding on to the leash.

I dreamt I was a small and deformed animal, more likely some kind of fiend, firmly grasping a big food can with my legs and one of my arms. The other arm was busy transferring the food to my mouth, franticly.

I dreamt I was a huge incubus on fire, fucking a teenage girl. I was holding to her like the previous fiend was holding to the food can.

I dreamt it all it the same night. I just woke up, actually. And I feel like my soul is screaming in the inside. I feel like it’s desperately hungry and sad and lonely. But when I wake up, my conscious self is numb and careless. It’s frozen cold and it doesn’t give a fuck.

Still, I don’t feel like my true self – the real me – is this conscious, indifferent self, or even my unconscious desperate self that speaks when I asleep – right now I feel like my true self is trying to get rid of both of them, so I can finally breath.

The thing is, right now, I can’t.