The discomfort of waking up in a greasy sweat. It hits me every day when I wake up lately. To my amazement, pain can be felt in dreams.
The feeling of a cold blade entering the body. Blood is pushed out from the inside, and a dull ache and an indescribable warmth spreads through the body.
“Everyday is the same thing.” I can’t always get to see the face of the hooded man who says that. The characters in my dream often consist of real-life acquaintances but the spectre’s lips were so pale and eerie that it was impossible to tell who he was.
Who is the person who wants me to die?
It is essentially meaningless to think about what happens in dreams, but it is a different story when you have the same dream every night.
What the man says is heartbreaking if it’s referring to me.
I have no ambition and no accomplishments to be proud of. My job is data processing. The job was no longer stimulating because I’ve been doing It for five years. I type what is on paper into my PC and use spreadsheets to do calculations and create tables.
As a teenager, I thought people had a role to play in life. But there really is no such thing. Everyone is replaceable and it looks like I am at the bottom of that disparity.
But that doesn’t mean I’m in despair. I just wait for myself to fade away without any purpose.