You would think a writer should be able to articulate their thoughts a bit more than this but given the circumstance I think I can be excused. This is a dream, a weird dream but a dream I am sure.

I don’t write about monsters, the supernatural, or anything of the sort but last night something compelled it, I remember now that I wrote of something wholly inhumane.

_Whistling through the cracked wall the night air entangled itself in my hair no doubt causing the first problem of my next morning, but it was not morning yet and so I let myself toss and turn and try to hide under my blanket to protect from the cold draft. Then of course there came a sound, such is to be expected given the world does not stop simply because I’m trying to sleep, still unexpected sounds are an unfortunate consequence of life. Then it happened again and of course I woke, it took me a moment to look around, grasp that I was once again awake. The sound was more clear now, footsteps, just outside, I wonder who in their right mind would be out and about at this hour. Either way I was awake now, I looked at the ceiling seeing visions of my book, my fantasy world, I saw castles and towns, there were poets and wolves. As always I planned the story knowing well that I would never remember anything new when the night came to pass. _

_I can’t help my thoughts or the story running wild in my head but it’s probably fair past midnight so once again I rubbed my eyes and listened to see if whatever it was I heard would continue,,, silence, I would appreciate it if it weren’t for the fact that along with the sounds of footsteps and animals the sound of the wind too had cesed. I don’t remember much just that it truely was as though time itself had stopped, the dust in the air was illuminated by candle light but not a single speck of it continued moving. _

_I don’t remember much just that I reached for my pen and paper, i don’t know what was so inspiring that I had to scribble on the paper of my last draft to add another bullet point. I didn’t know why I felt watched _

__

_What I do remember is that when I put the paper down and rolled back over on my bed, facing the cracked wall once again, there was a man, hand pressed against the wall and face looking in from the other side. His eye only the length of that brick from my own._

I don’t know how I got here, all I know is I must be dreaming, maybe that whole thing was a dream too. I know this forest, it’s the one from my book I’ve tried so desperately to finish, it’s kind of nice, sure I’ve seen it in my imagination before but this feels so real, the bark the leaves the sun just setting in the distance.

I’ve never felt like this before, at least not in my sleep, ive never had a dream where I could feel just how heavy these clothes are on my back. But maybe I’ve just never noticed that in my dreams before.

Maybe it’s doubt or maybe it’s insanity, but as I watch the night swallow the sun oh so slightly too fast, and I hear the crunching of fallen leaves behind me i start to think I really should have remembered that last idea I wrote down.

**_*- sorry I haven’t proof read this! It’s late it might not fit the theme perfectly!!! -*

_**