My dreams have left again, for a little while. One day I will figure out this dream phase that winds me through life. Just recently, I passed through the nightmare phase ... each night consisting of heart wrenching (by the way, my last lit professor says the term 'heart wrenching' is too trite, so I'm sorry Dr. Griffith, I still use it) images, sometimes sad, sometimes gory -- always terrifying. I left the nightmare phase, though (even though my mom says yesterday as I napped on the couch I was dreaming 'out loud' and sounded very upset and then started crying - I don't recall the dream).

So now I'm in the black phase. A night of silent sleep. I wake up feeling as though I've just spent hours in a dark room, with no one to talk to, and nothing to do. And I never feel rested. Maybe this absence of dreams is just one long, dark dream of nothing. Time passes in dark and lonely solitude, in this phase.

Next will come the vibrant, detailed dreams. The ones that seem not to make any sense, but are filled with symbolism for me to pick apart, much like a predator cleaning the meat off a bone ... until nothing is left but a dry white surface, the place where everything grows from. The backbone of my illusions. That is my favorite dream phase. Each night I am lead through new worlds, colorful and loud -- each night I learn something about myself.

But for now, silence, and the yearning to wake energetic and rested.

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