Dreams are only an escape from reality.

I know dreams don't control my life, in fact my life controls them. Every morning when I get up I replay my dreams in my mind as if they were a movie, or real life scenario. Mom's therapist says when you can remember your dreams, you're in touch with your feelings. He also says it's your sub-conscience telling you something. Sometimes I wonder what my conscience is trying to say to me, if only it would speak to me in a clear voice. Shouting. Instead it tells me to analyze every aspect of my dream, in order to unlock the feelings I keep tangled up inside of my body. It doesn't give anything away, because it likes riddles. It doesn't give multiple choice tests with four options. It likes to see me think. It likes to confuse me until I cry, shake, and fear from the reality that disguises itself beneath what is artificial. I have to interpret the hidden message for myself. For only myself and God know the solution to the endless equation my emotions write. My most recent dream occurred at approximately 4:25 a.m. (seeing that the average dream only lasts 2 minutes, and I awoke at 4:27 a.m.). My dream, better yet, nightmare, began in the living room. My house was as it looks in real life: Coffee table in the center, brown recliner, leather sofa in an "L" shape, and another small table near the T.V., which is support for a green/gold lamp. I remember Mom pushing me into the corner near the small table and telling me to hide. "Your sister has snapped and you need to stay out of her sight." Yet, my sister's body was still next to me. It was her soul attempting to kill our family, which at that moment was trapped outside, beating on the window, hoping to enter into our home. It was possessed by some evil spirit, possibly the devil?
Dad handed me his cell phone and asked me to call the bishop so they could tame her soul. I made the call, and there was not the slightest sound of fear in his voice. In fact, he chuckled once and didn't seem in any hurry to come over. I feared for my own life, but more so for my sister, because I knew it was not really her. Once the bishop arrived, along with a few requested cops, I watched my dad go out the back door. Stepping into danger, yet filled with bravery. He knew it had to be done to save us. The next thing I knew I was lying in the brown recliner. I asked Mom what happened to Kayle and she told me to look next to me. There she was, lying next to me in the chair. I remember getting out of the chair as quickly as my reflexes would allow. Mom told me not to fear, because she was healed. I was still scared, as I looked at my sister, afraid that she might snap once more. I expressed my concern to mom, but her response did not suffice. She just said, "Well, we still have to live with her, because she's your sister and we have to love her no matter what." Then I woke up. Light perspiration found itself a home on my face due to the fear instilled in me. I wanted to run into my sister's room for reassurance, but I would only be disappointed to find an empty bedroom. I turned on my light and cried as I called Ryan. Reality slowly consumed the space inside my body which was once occupied by anxiety.

I'm not sure why my conscience insists on scaring me to make me understand what is that I need to know. All I can say is, when I awake my gratitude for reality grows infinitely. For it was only a two minute dream that took complete control over my emotions. Only 2 minutes...