June 26th, 2010
It's 3 in the morning. I have been lying here wide awake since 12, and have been unable to sleep, so perhaps writing in my journal is all I can do to pass the time. After all, when it comes down to it, you, my journal, do not judge me.
IT was consuming my thoughts again. The dream. I have dreamt it many times before. But I still wish it weren't a dream. This dream is so nice, so pleasant, that it has made my every waking hour seem like a nightmare. Some days, I wish I had never dreamt it, because then my life may have been dull, even normal. Instead, my life feels like such a waste of time that I often cry myself to sleep.
Perhaps, then, I should write it down. Maybe spilling my thoughts onto the paper as ink would help rid myself of this most wonderful and hated dream.
I see myself, yet I don't look like myself. Yet, I can tell it's me, by the mysterious connection to dreams which all people seem to share. I am not human, but am a fox with a human form. An anthropomorphic fox, if you will. My orange fur is blowing in the wind and light shines down upon me, breaking through the clouds in little beams, as if heaven was smiling down upon me. The tips of my ears are white, as well as the tip of my tail, which is easily half my body's length. I am standing on top of a clock tower, and a massive crowd is gathered below me. They are cheering, applauding me, as I stand triumphant at the top. The dream, then, slowly fades out, until it is pitch black.
A voice then comes from the darkness, a female voice, calling out, "This is your destiny...the world...needs you..." Then, without fail, I wake up. I look at my pale, pathetic human form, and sigh deeply, disappointedly. Sometimes I cry. Then I go about the rest of my day in a dark mood, passing the time away, wanting the day to be over so that night I could have another shot at dreaming that dream. It is the only thing that keeps me happy.
Perhaps, someday, I will break out of this form and live my dream, but for now, I guess I just need to cope. I know that the world needs me. Yet I wonder if, while I'm stuck like this, do I need the world?
