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I used to love Lucid dreams but I could only seem to realise I'm dreaming when it's a particularly scary dream, I can always fly away from the threat. That's how I know I'm dreaming, I can then stay and control the narrative. Now I just force myself to wake up. It started with rules. I'm not sure how I know about them, how they were made up or who by.

The area around me became garbed in a bright light as I turned on my flashlight. The room was a disaster area with shelves toppled over, the books spilling on the cold wooden floor. Each piece of furniture had deep gashes in them as if something unholy had ripped into them. To make things worse, the door I had entered through was nothing but splinters, and one of the walls had a splatter of blood on it, already caking and cracking. All of this only added to the fear I was feeling.

Day 3 I was resigned to even writing this journal, and for the first two days I kept my will strong, but even the strongest of minds cannot defeat the allure of distraction from staring at the wall of a cell. This journal entry will probably be the longest of them all. There is a lot to explain about the predicament I find myself in, and the hellhole that I now seem to be imprisoned in for the foreseeable future. To start, I should let you know who I am. I used to be a lawyer. A well off,…

It was a quiet Sunday afternoon when the sobbing echoed through the apartment complex. Everyone rushed outside to find Jacob, kneeling in front of the leafless birch tree, crying. They stared in awe, unsure of what to do. After all, no one knew anything about him. The tenants stood shocked and confused as Jacob's fingers dug into the soil at the base of the tree - scooping handfuls of dirt into his pockets. He continued until his pockets were full, then the crying ceased, just like that. The…

The slight dripping sounds from the kitchen abruptly ended my post vacation buzz as soon as I opened the front door. Knots that I had hoped were lost somewhere on a Hawaiian beach returned to their home in the small of my back as I began the process of doing mental math. The last plumbing mishap relieved me of a month's pay and half of my comic collection. Judging by the competing tones of multiple drips, I told myself this was going to be an expensive plumbing emergency.

“Dude, I’m telling you. Dawn is never going to find out. You’ve got all of your bases covered.” “I don’t know man; she seemed pretty suspicious of me hiding the phone.” “Don’t even worry about it. As soon as you get what you want out of Sheila, you can easily ditch her to give your neglected girl all the love she’s missing. You’re golden man! You’re golden.” “Yeah but what if Sheila keeps calling. . . “ “Ok you’re boring me now” Leo interrupts as he blasts the car’s stereo.

Friday: 1pm Deisha opens her eyes while reaching for her cell phone, “Wow, two hours earlier than yesterday” She shrugs as she attempts to roll herself out of bed. “Ah forget it; what’s the point in waking up earlier anyway? I’m going back to dreamland.” Friday: 4:45pm

You’re not going to believe what happened to me. I was alone at an unusually long red light at about 3 o'clock. I swear the traffic light wasn't staying red by coincidence. Anyway, I was sitting there thinking about how busy my day will be tomorrow when a knock on my driver’s side window made me jump. After I turned to see what it was, my heart skipped a beat. The nuisance was a kid of about 15 yrs old who was wearing entirely black. What really startled me however were his eyes. They were as…

What is going on?

I woke up. Sheets were stained with sweat, breath was no longer bated, and unconscious solace began to surcease. Depression kills. Not in a directly physical way, not in a way perceivable by anyone except the sufferer. It made me feel psychotic. It went past the brain tissue, into the atoms of their molecules. I always imagined the electrons painstakingly orbiting a chunk of ice. There was never light in my imagination.

The cold was the first thing I felt. Even before my eyes were open I felt a very deep chill in my core, a thousand spindles of ice sewn between my tissues. I blinked, my eyelids slowly bringing and stealing back the darkness, and with it the desire to keep them closed forever.

The floor was vibrating. The walls shook, pathetically trying to withstand the shifting below the foundations of the apartment complex. The television fell over, coughing up shards of glass in it's last breath. I cursed all the money wasted, calculating the price of the setback in my head. Outside my window lay a contrasting scene of a magnificent Sun shining over the city.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been suspended in the room. I couldn't remember the last time light had elucidated these claustrophobic confines, nor exactly when I realized I was trapped within them. Vague outlines surrounded the silhouettes of objects filling the room, slightly blurred and perfectly still. These things themselves were not strange, but when I saw them, my mind whispered dissimulation: "This is a dream." And as I listened to it, figures of shadow formed within the depths light…

You lay in your bed, comfortably, staring at your ceiling. Your air conditioning is whirring, allowing you to completely relax and slowly drift into sleep. Just as you start to fall asleep your air conditioner cuts off. You can hear everything. You have a relatively large room. You're starting to become uncomfortable, but instead of moving to get into a better position you lay still. Almost frozen.

“So goodbye yellow brick road Where the dogs of society howl You can’t plant me in your penthouse I’m going back to my plough Back to the howling old owl in the woods Hunting the horny back toad Oh I’ve finally decided my future lies Beyond the yellow brick road” – Elton John, “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road” Kansas In 1985, the Disney film ’Return to Oz’ was released in cinemas, and a few years later made its way onto home VHS.

You awaken from a hazy dreamless sleep. You hear laughter, deep and booming, as if the source of it is amused. You look to your left at your alarm clock on your nightstand. 6:04 In red digitized numbers.

I was enjoying the quiet until she started screaming.

I guess I’m not really sure what to write down. These past few weeks feel…It’s just hard to put to words what’s going on. I can hear sirens in the distance. Not much time left now. The police’ll be here shortly. Only one more thing left to do, but first I want to leave some kind of a record. Some testament to what happened so when they look back on this insanity, maybe somebody will know I wasn’t crazy. At least, not completely. I’ll write down the facts as they happened, try and give you a…

Will I ever be free? Will I ever be free of this tormenting life after death? To exist as a ghost wandering around in my own despair, just longing to be put back to rest? I remember how peaceful the long rest was. There I was, sleeping in my ancient tomb without a thought to the living. Complete solitude. I was not being a bother to anyone living.

We see the same faces passing by every day, my faithful wife and I. Ghosts walking by our windows, their faces gaunt and pale. Their speech slurred, almost hauntingly so. They held up signs, although most of which read similar messages. “Will work for food,” “Feed me,” “Spare change?” You had to feel sorry for the beggars and homeless on the streets when you run a respected, neighborhood diner.