the perils of imagination

sometimes, i really regret having an imagination.

like when i have a mirror in a room and it's dark, and i can't think of anything beyond the mirrorverse where my doppelganger lurks seeking revenge.

or when think too heavily on the blue lady one afternoon and then can't get her out of my head when it's time to sleep that night.

or when i have the plain, old, regular nightmares, the kind that don't involve silly fantastical fears, the kind i'm pretty sure everyone has, but where everyone else seems to be able to get over them in a few minutes, i'm sitting here wishing it weren't getting darker and darker, later and later, closer and closer to bedtime.

because i'm still unable to get it out of my head. because it was a real nightmare, not one of those where the events are implausible. because it involved people i love, not faceless dream people who represent something else. because when i woke up, i wanted to remember my dream actions differently so that i wasn't ashamed of myself.

because i made myself remember exactly what i did in that nightmare. and the results. the expression i cannot forget, that i never wanted to see. and even though i know it was a nightmare, that my brain was running around experimenting with odds and ends it collected during my waking hours, that in fact the basic nightmare-plot was one i've seen played out in films, in sermons, in fiction and nonfiction pieces short and long, that the actions of a dream self are not the actions of a waking self, and that a waking self should not be held accountable for them... even though all those things, i just can't seem to forgive myself.

and that's silly. how could i have a hard time forgiving myself for something i've not done, but have only dreamed i did? still, i wish it were noon so i'd have that many more hours to try before i go back to bed.

because that's one of the things that sucks about having an imagination. you can't turn it off, and it shows you some of the most horrible things you're capable of doing and being, and some of the most spectacular things you aren't capable of doing or being. and it lingers. when you can sometimes achieve semi-lucid if not completely lucid dreams, how can you ever be sure that what your dream self does is not what you directed it to do?

turn back the clock. turn it back. let it be dawn again and i drag myself out of bed where i sat awake for hours. let the night not come tonight. let me give up imagination for peace, just tonight. please.

love and peace.