It’s a wonder that I still write here. I am immersed in the inane boredom of everyday existence unable to break free at this time. It eats away at me, reminding me of all I am missing. It tells on my soul in long painful stories. But I do see a break in the days coming, I am slowly ending my training time at the compound and will finally be working my chosen schedule. That will bring some relief as it will finally put the Dragon and I back on close to the same schedule. Which will be nice, as I miss terribly the time we used to spend together.

Last night I had dreams of dark eyed cannibals feasting on my flesh, ( I know there is enough there for a bountiful feast ) But it was a disturbing dream with all manner of dark meaning and really did give me fear. The dream landscape itself was desolate and had that foreshadowing of terror unknown.

I sometimes wonder how much of my dreams are just bits of my day reformed by my subconcious, compared to it being perhaps a message from some inner voice. Showing me the danger of my future if I am wise enough to read the signs.

I kept waking up during the dream drenched in sweat and uncomfortable, Hot flashes and night sweats. Constant companions to my daily existence.

Yet everytime I fell back asleep, I was back in the same dream world being stalked and tormented by these men with a craving for the the flavor of my flesh.

I never actually dreamed my death and subsequent roasting, but I knew in my deep within that is what would happen once they caught up with me.

Even after waking up certain images from the dream cross my mind, a baby lying on the floor filthy with its parents? blood. crying and screaming, blue in the face, fear radiating from its tiny body.  The cries from the child were almost a soundtrack to the dream, the men licking their lips as they looked at the infant.

When the screaming suddenly stopped, the overwhelming quiet was almost too much for me to bare. For then I could hear in the darkness surrounding me odd noises that perhaps were nothing, but in my mind sounded much worse. The rasp of a knife against its leather sheath. The screaming of the large cook pot as it is dragged across the concrete floor.

The breathing heavy and wet of my ravenous pursuers. Close by almost in my ear, but when I turn to look I see nothing in the darkness.

When I finally awoke late this morning to the alarm, I was still exhausted, as if all the running and adrenaline from my dream had carried over into my waking life.

Sometimes I wished I did not dream.

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