he had an awful dream

those he related it to called it a nightmare

he corrected them immediately A dream is a dream is a dream Determining where it comes fromno matter its context  is fascinating and worthwhile If one cowerslooks away when a dream presents it is their construct if they dismiss it as a nightmare I think they have thrown awaycast off valuable and likely very constructive insights to their psyche perhaps motivations and desires Nightmare fear opens their dreaming eyes No matter how disruptive or distasteful a dream is lick it It needs to be tasted That is critical  

Time. Time. they chimed Time  Who has that kind of time to waste?

I could suppose if embracing oneselfimproving oneself is perceived a waste of time then yesby all means I agree Dont waste your time

You’re being sarcastic.

No Im not In the future Ill not waste your time

Don’t be that way!

I shouldnt be that way 

However you can be in a way that Im opposed to 

I can assure you  Ill be as I am

it wasnt long before he was shunned for being selfabsorbed that would bring him around ignored for wasting his time on fiction

he didnt pay any attention to them chastising him 

he didnt waste his time to say Fiction My dreams arent fiction I create them

he didnt waste his time to hear their inevitable counter You didn’t create them. Your subconscious, your unconscious mind created them.

he didnt waste his time to say You think my mind is not mine Then one could suppose I would be excused for pissing on your leg because I didnt piss on your leg ITS not my piss he hated the word piss       

Now you're being ridiculous. he also didnt waste his time to hear that Don’t be that way!  

the dream had run like a short film shot at night in an unknown wild place  he was lost black ribbons dangled webs wrapped his face clung to his nakedness sharp jetblack slants valances stabs of tree limbs and trunks lashing shrubs lurid queer misshapen bipedal shadows vaporous presences  and the whole of it backed up by a horrifying soundtrack of pursuit and menace and terror

he could have awakened himself at any time  he suffered it

and suffering his fear his parched mouth and throat his wounds the slick of his blood smearing him painting him he remembered the dream from when he was a boy and when he was a teenager and a young man then too his personae refused to wakerefused to succumb 

fear can be routed by memory by history

                                            the sun ascended and lightened the sky the blackness purpled and eroding it inexorably gave way to the wholesome blush and fresh milk of the morn he slaked his thirst with clear water he washed his wounds  he dabbed them with spirited aloe and vegetal antiseptic fat parasites feeding on his body shriveled and died

he awoke in his bed      

earlier, then I texted myself at 0719,  Thursday,  19  7. 18

1457,  Thursday,  19  7. 18