• Tristan J. Miller

11/25/19

Almost every day I journal for myself. Sometimes I like to share them. This is one of those cases. This post is not particularly pleasant, but I think has something worth sharing contained in it.

I have been having worsening nightmares lately. I dream of assassinations, pursuits, and heartbreak. I awaken to find my cheeks wet with tears.


I don’t know from where these dreams have come, but I do not care.


I don’t want them any longer.


I rarely dream and when I do it is rarely pleasant. To have dreams several nights in a row is an unexpected, unpleasant, and strange to me.


I wake up groggy and confused. My REM cycle interrupted by sunlight, loved ones, or panic.


Shaking off the last vestiges of whatever fear mongering abscess of my own psyche linger, I pour water and place grounds into the coffee maker.


I wait hearing the steam burst into the air.


I still do not understand myself.