I don’t know about everyone else, but I love to sleep. It the best way to escape life, if only for a little while.
When I sleep, I have really vivid dreams. Some of them are horrible nightmares but others are good dreams.
The problem with dreaming is I wake up eventually. If I’ve had a nightmare, then I wake up panicky and scared, but I calm myself down eventually.
But if I’ve had a good dream, I wake up and realize that it was all a dream, that perfect reality was a dream. And life seems so unbearable. So disgusting. I realize just how empty I am. How worthless my life is.
I propose that good dreams are the worst dreams to have because they remind me of what I will never have. They taunt me with craved impossibilities.
Just some thoughts.