ᴅʀᴇᴀᴍ ᴊᴏᴜʀɴᴀʟ.

[MOURN.]

it is a blessing that i can remember my dreams so vividly, but it can be a curse in various ways, as i'm partially convinced that they are not just "dreams"— they may be my future, something i'm currently struggling with, a prediction of some sort with a hidden meaning that i can't help but to attempt to decipher.

some of them are interesting, yet disturbing and make absolutely no sense, and some of them are, oddly enough, reccurring. there's a pattern.

PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION, AND DO PUT YOUR MENTAL HEALTH FIRST. ALL POTENTIALLY TRIGGERING AND NOT SAFE FOR WORK CONTENT WILL HAVE A SPOILER. ​

 

[MOURN.]

faceless man.

18 january 2020. ​

i'm not entirely sure what to think of this one, but i did my best to write everything down as soon as i woke up. there's a lot happening, there may have been more that happened that i don't remember.

TW || violence.

i was walking to or from somewhere—i don't know, the environment was a bit dark and distorted, and the path i was walking on was narrow. a man with blonde hair emerges from the trees, i don't remember what he was wearing.


he lacks facial features—he doesn't have a face, and this terrifies me. but he's also holding a knife.


suddenly, there's a knife with large ridges in my own hand, and if i'm being honest, i don't know where i got that knife from. it also disturbs me that this man doesn't simply "walk" towards me—he stands stock still, disappearing and then reappearing in a new spot, getting closer to me each time he reappears. he attacks me, and i try to fight back with the knife that appeared in my hand. he's whispering something, but it's gibberish and i can't understand. i try to speak, scream, do anything, but i make no noise.


suddenly, the environment is on fire, and the sky turns blood red. there's an unfamiliar piece of music being played in the background—on the piano, except it sounds as though it were being played in reverse. the blonde man lacking facial features somehow manages to take my knife away from me, and i try to get it back. i tug on the blade, because he's holding the handle, and i split my fingers open, to no avail. he manages to pull the knife away from me entirely, and now he has two knives.


i'm helpless, and i can't force myself to move when he lunges at me with both knives, and i jolt awake.

​

 

[MOURN.]

intestines and false awakenings.
19 january 2020.


this one was...terrifying, to say the least—trapped in what seemed like an endless loop. a dream...nightmare, rather, like this one is what i fear the most.

TW || gore.

i woke up. it's three thirty-three in the morning, and i felt the sudden urge to brush my teeth because there was a bad taste in my mouth. i got up, and guided myself to the bathroom, but when i flipped the light switch, i glanced in the mirror—something i knew i shouldn't do. in the reflection was...well, myself. but the reflection of myself was facing the other way, back turned towards me. demented gurgling noises reach my ears, and i want to run because i'm terrified, but every muscle is paralyzed—even the ones within my face. then, i immediately notice that my reflection is tearing viciously into their chest and stomach, ripping out their intestines...tossing them around their neck as though it was a noose, or an accessory. the demented noises of flesh and gurgling are enough to make me feel incredibly ill, but i still can't move, let alone speak. my reflection turns around to face me, and i can only see their bloodied ribs—the rest of their internal organs are gone, except the intestines they've wrapped around their throat. the mirror shatters for seemingly no reason, and the glass shards pierce my skin.


i jolt awake, though i'm relieved that it was only a dream. the time is three thirty-three, once more. i get up, because i'd like a snack from the kitchen. i stumble out of my room, rubbing at my eyes—it's pitch black, except for the small hallway light near the stairs...but, there are no stairs. the downstairs has been replaced by a black abyss—oblivion. there's a gurgled and heavily distorted voice calling my name, telling me that i should join "them", telling me that they know i wanted this. i do it without much effort. my body falls forward, and i throw myself into the abyss to be forgotten.


i jolt awake, once more. i'm relieved that it was only a dream. the time is seven thirty-six, and the sun is beaming through my windows, effectively blinding me. i head towards the bathroom, though i avoid the mirror unless absolutely necessary—there are no glass shards, and the space lacks the noises of human flesh being torn, and unidentified gurgling. the downstairs floor has reappeared, as well as the stairs. i perform my tasks like normal.


i've awakened.

​

 

[MOURN.]

flower fields and deceased great grandma.
20 january 2020.


a simple and short mid-day dream, but a pleasant and rare one, nonetheless. at least i'm assured that her soul appears at to be at peace.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

i was walking through a colorful flower field with my great grandmother, and our arms were linked. she was talking to me about how much she loved all of these flowers. the field was virtually infinite in all directions, with no other signs of buildings or houses within the distance, and although it was slightly eerie, it was peaceful. the sun was beginning to rise as we walked, and as badly as i wanted to speak, i couldn't. so, i just listened to her, as we continued on the endless path.​

 

[MOURN.]

friends > reccurring dream.
24 january 2020

TW || blood, gore.

i was sitting on the grass in some unfamiliar environment, crying as i buried my face into my knees. all of my friends were surrounding me in a large circle—their faces were so heavily distorted, and i was terrified by this. they were laughing at me, and their laughs physically began to hurt my ears.

"fucking slut," one of them murmured.
"we never fucked with you, kai. we don't fucking care about you." i heard, faintly.

they were saying so much at the same time, to the point where i could no longer understand their taunts. their voices and laughter got louder, and louder, and louder, until the decibels of their voices had reached that of multiple fireworks going off within a close proximity.

something had begun to trickle out of my ears, and down my neck—it saw that it was blood, when i went to go touch it with my hand. at this point, everything had gone silent. their distorted mouths were still moving, probably taunting me, but nothing could be heard—only an annoying, high-pitched whine. i continued to cry.

but then, i opened my mouth, and, starting with my two front teeth, i began to rip them out as i cried. the taste of iron was unpleasant, but i still continued to rip them out of my gums, tossing them on the ground afterwards. the blood that continued to pour out of my ears hadn't stopped—in fact, the flow of it had grown much heavier, and by now, my shirt was entirely red.

after i was finished, tossing the rest of my teeth on the ground, i began to tear and pull at the skin on my face, peeling the layers off with my bloodied nails. flesh and muscle hang off of my face. i don't look at my friends. i decide that my eyes are next to go—but that's when i wake up.
alone.

​

 

[MOURN.]

electrocution.
25 january 2020.

TW || death.

i'm sitting on the carpet, and i'm in my room—but, the only difference is that my room has no furniture, and everything that i've previously owned is gone. i'm playing with a pair of stainless steel scissors, snipping at the air, when suddenly i feel the need to bathe.

i place the scissors down. i get up to go to the bathroom, and when i flip on the light, everything i've owned that was in the bathroom has also disappeared. there is no shower curtain. not only that, the bath is filled with blood, and it's beginning to leak out of the bottom of the porcelain tub. however, i nonchalantly strip down, leaving my clothes on the floor. i get in, and this only causes the blood to overflow, further ruining the floor. i'm still nonchalant as i sit there, virtually tasting the iron, because the stench of the blood is, unironically, very strong.

however, part of the ceiling above me collapses, and a hairdryer falls from above, and right into the blood bath. my body convulses violently, though i'm still somehow alive—but, now i can't move, and my face is permanently stuck with my teeth bore rather uncomfortably, as i was in pain.

my mother enters the bathroom, and she's panicking, but the sclera of her eyes are black, and so are her irises. she's saying something to me, but i can't hear her voice. in the midst of her panic, however, a toaster falls from the part of the collapsed ceiling, and into the blood bath. she screams, in which i convulse violently once more.

everything went black for about twenty seconds, as if i'd been trying to process the fact that i "died"—but, i woke up.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

when i woke up from this, my jaw was actually aching—i assume that i was grinding my teeth together, or gritting them. there was also a pin and needle-like sensation that i could feel all over my body within the first minute, but it dissipated gradually. it's odd—i usually wake up right before i die in a dream, but i almost felt as though i'd died within the real world. ​

 

[MOURN.]

cliff, audience, and happiness.
6 february 2020.

TW || death(?).

i'm driving down a dark path. the environment is bland—there are no trees, just fairly tall blades of grass. i'm nonchalant, staring ahead as i continue to drive straight. it's actually quite peaceful, i think. but, in the distance, i can see...people, an audience; standing out of the way of the path I'm driving on. as i get closer, though, i realize that they're clapping, cheering me on. they're happy. i'm happy. they're smiling. i'm smiling. even as i'm nearing the edge of the dark abyss—there's nothing on the other side, but i'm still smiling. i'm still happy. i don't stop.


i feel weightless, as i drive myself off of the edge, into the dark abyss. they're still cheering. i'm still happy. i'm still smiling. finally, i wasn't a burden. people were smiling. i'm still smiling.


i'm happy. genuinely.

​

 

[MOURN.]

​

ceiling fan.
12 march 2020.
not a dream, but sleep paralysis.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING || death, su*c*d*

as usual, i'd woken up on my back—my arms and legs were pinned with a heavy weight, and despite how much i struggled to keep my eyes shut, they were pried open.

at the foot of my bed, stood my older sister; staring at me with an unreadable expression. i'm not sure how long this lasted, since time is often distorted during sleep paralysis, but it was a long time that she stared. after a while, she began to glide towards the middle of the room, and that's when i briefly noticed the noose that was hanging from the ceiling fan, alongside the chair that was sitting beneath it.

out of instinct, i immediately tried to scream out to her, but my mouth was pried shut—i was unable to move my arms and legs, even down to my fingers and toes; breathing took a great deal of effort.

she stepped onto the chair, and still maintaining eye contact with me, put her head through the noose. she kicked the chair from beneath herself, and her expression never changed, and she still maintained eye contact with me. i tried to pry my eyes off of her, but i couldn't—i felt like i failed her, because i couldn't do anything.

i couldn't go back to sleep, especially after i'd managed to break out of it...and I probably texted her ten times asking if she was alright.

​

 

[MOURN.]

​

false awakenings.
26 march 2020.



★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★

TW || breakdown.

i "wake up". it's dark. i get up to go to the bathroom, and everything looks "normal", but something feels bizarre and demented. for some reason, i look at myself in the mirror—something i know not to ever do. all of my hair falls out the moment i look at my reflection, and onto the floor. i become hysteric.

i "wake up". i'm relieved that it was just a dream. i get up to go to the bathroom, everything looks normal, but again, something feels bizarre and demented. i look in the mirror, again. i have no hair. i look like a corpse. i become hysteric.

i "wake up". i'm not relieved. something feels bizarre, and demented. my mother comes into my room, and tells me that she's dying, before leaving. i'm in hysterics, again, and i try to tell myself that it isn't real. i attempt to slam my head against the headboard, in an attempt to wake up. truly.

i "wake up". i'm sobbing. something feels bizarre, and demented. my mother comes into my room, and asks me why i'm so upset—she looks visibly concerned, but normal, nonetheless. i try and speak, but nothing comes out. her mouth curls into a demented grin; if you've seen the movie, "truth or dare", her grin was creepily similar to those. i'm hysteric.

★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★・・・・・・★


this occurred about three or maybe four more times, with the occurrences becoming further demented each time i "woke up", until i actually woke up within the real world.​

 

[MOURN.]

well... (partially) forgot about this thread.

i'll get back to documenting my dreams soon enough — they've been far more wild than these. ​