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Sometimes my brain shows me impossible dreams in my sleep. Dreams that when I wake up leave me feeling the magical coolness of the of rain-bearing winds on my skin. Well, almost. The cruel heat dispels the notion soon enough.

Sops. They are nothing but sops thrown at me for what I refuse to acknowledge during my waking hours. The intense pain buried where I donโ€™t want to find it. Ever. What my brain does not know, the sops only accentuate not assuage. But mercifully, the dream disappears in the light of day, like most dreams do. Or maybe I will it to disappear.

The brain has other tactics too, to make me admit. There is an imbalance in you. A ghastly truth you cannot escape. One side weighs more. You are about to topple. So when it is not making up rosy dreams, it makes me sob. Racking sobs in my sleep. Sobs that make me cough and gag, as if I am being strangled. I wake up in a cold sweat gasping for air.

I want to tell my brain to leave me to my unkempt ways, everything that I donโ€™t want to think of promptly swept into a bottomless pit and the lid put on it, with a carpet thrown on top. But no. it has to sneak in dreams, and sobs, and shatter my carefully orchestrated existence. But then they are just nights. The days are still mine.

Written forย 3WW CCCLXV

Prompt words for the week: unkempt, cruel, ghastly