Epiales slept against me last night, embracing me and becoming one with my being.
That opening sentence would sound so warm, comforting and romantic in any other setting. With any other background. He would run his fingers through my hair and press his lips against my forehead, whispering promises of everlasting faithfulness in an ancient tongue that has not been heard by humans in millenniums. His hands would rest in the small of my back, tracing the two small dimples I have on my low back, on the rise of my hips. I'd kiss his chest, right over his heart, and lean my ear against it and fall asleep to the rhythm of it's beats. Bliss. Heaven. Torment.
Unfortunately, Epiales - although loyal to me and my bed every night - is not the man of my dreams. He is one of the Oneiroi, the Greek spirit of Nightmares. The Black Dream met me last night, again, and unleashed his forceful way of showing attention on me. Normally I'm used to the images, the fears, the recurring storyline in my nightmares. But last night made me wish I slept in a cocoon made of dream catchers.
There were no wolves, or walking dead. There were no demons with bloody eyes or dark mists whispering my name. There was simply him.
I was walking through the desert, the stars laid up on the expanse like a velvet blanket embroidered with diamonds. Nothing hunted me, I felt no fear. Just the cool wind and sand bits hitting my face as I marched on, with no destination in mind. The shooting stars lit up the heavens every few minutes, and every time I saw one, his face...eyes flooded my thoughts. I wondered where he was, and if he was happy. If he ever loved me or missed me. But I did not cry, the scene was serene and though I ached for peace - I was calm about my situation. Wandering through the desert. Alone.
Until I heard my name called, and saw a figure walking towards me. I knew it couldn't be him, impossible. How? Yet he stood a few feet away from me, with a serious look on his face. There was no joy in his eyes, like I pictured his eyes to be whenever we would meet. There was anger, loathing, rage. I only managed to whisper his name before his hand was gripping my neck, cutting off my breathing. I clawed at his arm to release me, but he simply stared at me with tears welling up in his eyes. I should've been worried about what was about to happen to me, but my heart crumbled when I saw him cry - in anger - and I knew I was not who or what he needed to be happy.
His grip tightened and I felt his other hand, curled up in a fist, hit the side of my head - right outside the edge of my left eye. Over and over again he gave into the seething rage and kept delivering blows all over my face. I finally felt my lungs burning and my eyes swelling shot. I tasted blood in my mouth and traced my tongue where my teeth would've been. Most were missing, or chipped. Last part of his words towards me, that I heard, were: "You should've stayed away."
I woke up coughing, my heart racing and gripping my pillow. I looked at my Blackberry and it seems I had only dozed off for 30 minutes. It was only 2 a.m. I fought the sleep that lingered, and finally gave in to sleep at 4 a.m. again. This time the wolves were back. The demon was there. The voices returned. But for once, I was glad it wasn't his face I saw. Because those images hurt the worst.
Oh, Nyx, how I loathe your offspring.
That opening sentence would sound so warm, comforting and romantic in any other setting. With any other background. He would run his fingers through my hair and press his lips against my forehead, whispering promises of everlasting faithfulness in an ancient tongue that has not been heard by humans in millenniums. His hands would rest in the small of my back, tracing the two small dimples I have on my low back, on the rise of my hips. I'd kiss his chest, right over his heart, and lean my ear against it and fall asleep to the rhythm of it's beats. Bliss. Heaven. Torment.
Unfortunately, Epiales - although loyal to me and my bed every night - is not the man of my dreams. He is one of the Oneiroi, the Greek spirit of Nightmares. The Black Dream met me last night, again, and unleashed his forceful way of showing attention on me. Normally I'm used to the images, the fears, the recurring storyline in my nightmares. But last night made me wish I slept in a cocoon made of dream catchers.
There were no wolves, or walking dead. There were no demons with bloody eyes or dark mists whispering my name. There was simply him.
I was walking through the desert, the stars laid up on the expanse like a velvet blanket embroidered with diamonds. Nothing hunted me, I felt no fear. Just the cool wind and sand bits hitting my face as I marched on, with no destination in mind. The shooting stars lit up the heavens every few minutes, and every time I saw one, his face...eyes flooded my thoughts. I wondered where he was, and if he was happy. If he ever loved me or missed me. But I did not cry, the scene was serene and though I ached for peace - I was calm about my situation. Wandering through the desert. Alone.
Until I heard my name called, and saw a figure walking towards me. I knew it couldn't be him, impossible. How? Yet he stood a few feet away from me, with a serious look on his face. There was no joy in his eyes, like I pictured his eyes to be whenever we would meet. There was anger, loathing, rage. I only managed to whisper his name before his hand was gripping my neck, cutting off my breathing. I clawed at his arm to release me, but he simply stared at me with tears welling up in his eyes. I should've been worried about what was about to happen to me, but my heart crumbled when I saw him cry - in anger - and I knew I was not who or what he needed to be happy.
His grip tightened and I felt his other hand, curled up in a fist, hit the side of my head - right outside the edge of my left eye. Over and over again he gave into the seething rage and kept delivering blows all over my face. I finally felt my lungs burning and my eyes swelling shot. I tasted blood in my mouth and traced my tongue where my teeth would've been. Most were missing, or chipped. Last part of his words towards me, that I heard, were: "You should've stayed away."
I woke up coughing, my heart racing and gripping my pillow. I looked at my Blackberry and it seems I had only dozed off for 30 minutes. It was only 2 a.m. I fought the sleep that lingered, and finally gave in to sleep at 4 a.m. again. This time the wolves were back. The demon was there. The voices returned. But for once, I was glad it wasn't his face I saw. Because those images hurt the worst.
Oh, Nyx, how I loathe your offspring.
you're reading burned arent you...<3
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