With the death of the new year, I realize how much dies along with it. How much of ourselves we kill without reason. So many dreams are stillborn, or they die before the sun can seep life into them. Nightmares which are already mutants of mind twist further until they are remnants which don’t resemble anything. Faded, unwanted bits dissolving into nothing.
Many make the journey, but only a few stand out enough to survive the attempts to silence them. So if you are fortunate enough to hear them, listen carefully and do not mute them. The dreams that are silenced are sentenced to a slow death, rotting in some subconscious corner, the beauty they could’ve been softly, but quickly, leeched away from their husks.
I’ve learned a rather surreal lesson in life to never take a nightmare for granted. Even the most tormenting dream can be re-used as fuel for an amazing reality as only the individual can experience. No one else will ever know your dreams unless you translate them into human language through what you do. Never be afraid to show the world what your subconscious shows you, for dreams can never do the harm that a human can by stifling them.
-S. M., Jan. 2018