In my dreams I always feel relatively weak in ways that do not concern my mind. Like if I were to throw a punch at someone, it would be like a little kid hitting an adult; they would not even flinch or be phased by the force of my impact. When I use my mind, I can formulate and trick or deceive people very easily, or at least that’s how I feel within my dreams. People are like sheep, and while I may be a shepherd, I feel weak if the sheep were to fight back.

I cannot express enough how this is only relative to my dreams, because I fear people may take the next parts out of proportion. I have a memory of a dream from last night, that I instinctively tried to supress, but watching someone become maimed while awake, it triggered the memory to reawaken itself. The power I felt, not only in my mind, but in terms of strength, as I pushed a blade through someones jugular. The feeling of overcoming an obstacle, the invincibility and rush.

I know that in real life, I am a pretty big person compared to a lot of people around me and I know that means I’m also pretty powerful if I were to fight. In fights, I’ve always been way to afraid to actually hurt someone, because in actual fights I always have managed to hurt them without trying. Now I realize how potentially powerful I am as a human being and I’m afraid that I was not meant to remember this dream in which I took another human being’s life.

I will not linger on the thought, because it’s haunting and I am filled with a sense of self loathing, but I must write it down. If I remembered it once, I will remember it forever. I remember wrestling with someone who had the intent to kill me. We were once friends because this person was familiar to me, that kind of vibe, though I cannot possibly recollect who it may have been. I remember getting tired of pretending to be weak, pretending to be less than what I am. I remember pulling the blade out and just forcing it into his chest a few times. As I did this, it did not satisfy me, because it did not feel as though I were mortally wounding this person. It felt like I was merely slapping him, rather than actually hitting back.
So I aimed it north, slid it in beneath his chin, through his throat, into the back of his mouth. I remember distinctly the way it felt to go through layers of flesh and tissue and the sound it made as he gurgled on his own spit and blood. I am filled with the arrogance of my youth again, a sense of self-confidence I often misplace.

Dreams are to be utilized, like simulations, for events to come. Is it a self-fulfilling prophecy? Am I bound by fate to murder someone? Only time will tell, because I can say honestly I would never hesitate to defend myself, but I would never find it easy to willingly hurt another person out of anything other than sadomasochistic-sexual pleasaure, in which it’s obviously consentual and it’s not actually harmful.

I realize now how powerful dreams can be, which is why I feel that the act of making this a memory may have been a mistake, but I will own what and who I am for eternity if nothing else.