Prompt 87 - Dreams - "These Dreams"- spikespetslayer - OC

[dedra.livejournal.com]

Title: These Dreams
Pairing/Fandom: None
Warning: Foul Language
Summary: Being a psychic isn't all it's cracked up to be.



These Dreams

I’ve had to learn to deal with a lot. With ‘gifts’ like mine, you have to.

I can deal with the ghosts. They walk through my room at all hours of the day and night, interrupting my sleep and making privacy a thing of the past. Ever since I came into my heritage, I haven’t been ‘by myself’ long enough for anything, including masturbation.

Yes, I said it. I’m afraid to even touch myself for fear that the spooks will make a trip into the room and bring things to a screeching halt. I mean, who can hold the mood when you have a mass of ectoplasm trying to talk to you? Certainly not me. Well, it might depend on who it is, too. Grandma isn’t sexy, but if it were, say, some good looking dead guy—possible. Definitely possible.

Other people’s thoughts? Yeah, I can handle that as well. Mom sent me to Aunt Marisa and I learned how to block unless I needed to ‘hear’, so now it’s definitely better. I don’t overhear all the crap that runs through everyperson’s head and it doesn’t drive me bonkers anymore. It was constantly there, like background noise from a radio or TV turned down really low. Now, I can block it and it’s just gone.

But the dreams? My life can’t be more boring because of those stupid fucking dreams.

I dream of the day that I’m going to have before I have it. Every night I dream of the next day’s events, from the moment that I get out of bed to the moment that I crawl back in it. I stay exhausted all the time because I can’t rest; it’s like I’m living my life two times.

And shit, it isn’t just my life I’m living either. I’ll have flashes of other people’s lives as well that are disturbing, to say the least. Like I want to know that my art teacher looks at paintings and jacks off like some people do with porn? Right—just what I want to know. Now when I walk into art class every day I get creeped out by the look in his eyes when he looks at the nudes.

So what do I do?

Well, it’s part of why I started stealing money from my mother. I buy downers on the street—that and some pot every once in a while. Sometimes I buy booze too. It keeps the dreams from being so strong and real. It keeps them—I don’t know, distant from my mind.

I know that she knows. I know that she’s been watching me. I’m careful when and where I do the drugs and how much I take, although it is taking more Valium to make them go away. I heard that there was a clinic that wanted to do dream studies, but I don’t know if they want to delve that deep into a person’s psyche.

See, I’m smart too and it makes a difference. It makes a big difference in the end. I’ll figure out what to do to change things one of these days. I’ll have to. If I don’t, these fucking dreams are going to kill me.

Maybe—well, maybe it would be better if they did. There’s enough freaks in the world, they don’t need another. But I can handle the rest of the stuff—if it weren’t for the fucking dreams.

Comments

[authoressnebula.livejournal.com]

This is simply incredible; I love how, despite all the incredible supernatural abilities that hit the psychic, the thing that's the hardest to deal with is the norm: the dreams. Which, of course, aren't normal for a psychic. It's a common ground with everyone else, though, because most people dream.

I loved this piece. You write the niftiest original fic. You should seriously think about publishing some of these in a literary magazine or something.

*hugs*

~Nebula

[dedra.livejournal.com]

Thank you so much, sweetie! ♥ One of these days I think that I'll collect them into a book. Until then, they'll be out here for the world to enjoy. :D