The Dreams
His dreams were explosions and death. Ghosts and gunshots. The air tasted sour and he peered into eyes that were glazed over. Scorching sun, teary eyes, and empty boots. Bagpipes, salutes, and flags. Rifles, boots and eulogies. He dreamt of saying goodbye, over and over again. But now... Now when they'd wake him up, he'd feel her right beside him. He'd open his eyes and see her asleep, so peaceful, so beautiful. He'd smile, the evil melting away. It's hard to feel the sadness when you lay next to an angel. Even in her sleep she's battling his demons, driving them back with ease. He used to wake up kicking, punching and crying. Now he opens his eyes pulls her closer. She's a blessing and doesn't even know it. When the darkness creeps forward threatening to engulf him she's there, holding a radiant shield, forcing back the black. His dreams were the night sky, infinite, dark. But she, she was the starlight, made all the brighter for the darkness, turning the void into something beautiful, a sight worth getting lost in, like looking into her eyes when she's happy. With her there the pain doesn't seem as real, and occasionally his dreams are lit with sunlight. The deserts are replaced with meadows, farms grow flowers, and the shouts turned into greetings. He feels her warmth and knows that it is peace. She is comfort.
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His dreams steadily got worse. He'd only have been asleep 20 minutes, and then he's laying there, wide awake and angry. His dreams were full of hurt. His dreams were full of betrayal. His dreams lead him on, taking him down a path of joy, only to so that they could hurt him that much more. He'd rather have the rifle, the screams, the explosions. He knows how to handle those. He can handle the fear and sadness. He knows how to handle enemies. These dreams come as friends, open and inviting. Loving and without judgement. They're happy, and full of life. Until she appears. The light recedes, and betrayal shows it's ugly face. He knows he's stronger than this, but it's difficult to shrug off an injury to his core. He knows he'll survive, but for now, his dreams only bring short nights and waking up to rage.
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His dreams steadily got worse. He'd only have been asleep 20 minutes, and then he's laying there, wide awake and angry. His dreams were full of hurt. His dreams were full of betrayal. His dreams lead him on, taking him down a path of joy, only to so that they could hurt him that much more. He'd rather have the rifle, the screams, the explosions. He knows how to handle those. He can handle the fear and sadness. He knows how to handle enemies. These dreams come as friends, open and inviting. Loving and without judgement. They're happy, and full of life. Until she appears. The light recedes, and betrayal shows it's ugly face. He knows he's stronger than this, but it's difficult to shrug off an injury to his core. He knows he'll survive, but for now, his dreams only bring short nights and waking up to rage.
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