I don't know what I saw. But it was easy to go into my dreamscape. Michael had disappeared. I tried closing my eyes and bringing him into the dream, but I don't know if he's mad at me or I've advanced enough to become lucid on my own, and he doesn't come because he isn't needed. My dreamscape has people, it has everyone I know that is worth putting into the dream and everyone I don't like who I can give what they deserve in the dream.
I took out the anger of Michael's absence on the dream characters. I was violent in the dream, and I didn't regret it. Why did he have to go? He'd been gone for a few nights, ever since I mentioned the dream being a catharsis of my anger and taking it all out in the dream.
But he had a problem with that. I don't know why, he wouldn't fucking tell me. I kicked and punched and tore down buildings as I walked forward. It was my dreamscape, I could do whatever the hell I wanted, didn't I? It wasn't like it was Michael's to own.
"It's supposed to be an utopia," I heard the wind.
"Fuck you, Michael, come the hell out," I screamed. There were bodies in the street, and blood staining the pavements. "Don't be such a fucking pussy."
It fell silent.
Why won't he come back?
Why won't he?
Apparently I'd woken up sometime this morning and written some shit down. Anyway, I dreamed about the guy I had a crush on who was in my Literature class, and the dream was basically a date.