You become addicted to lucid dreaming, and start having trouble telling reality from dreams.
It should be easy. Flying, floating: a dream. Sitting, bored, in a classroom: reality. Clear lines.
It isn’t easy.
I forget I’m dreaming. I am in a classroom, I am in a coffee shop, I am in normal surroundings, but one by one they fall away. I am not the sort to dream of flying over wild lands. My dreams are my life, or a version of it.
But in my dreams, the rooms are quiet. And the people are not real. In my dreams when I speak, no one speaks over me. In my dreams, people listen. And when I do not want to speak, the conversation ends.
In my dreams, when I am tired, everything falls away, and I move on to the next scene.
I am in the library. You are speaking to me. I don’t want to hear the next words. This is the page where I slam the cover shut, put the story down, wait until I am calmed and prepared to continue.
You are speaking. The scenery falls away. We are in a restaurant. That was a dream, just then? I thought that was really you, telling me things I don’t want to hear. Was that not you?
We are in a restaurant. You are repeating yourself. These words don’t make me apprehensive, but I do not comprehend them. What are the words? Are you mumbling? Or is that my ears? Wait, you’re tugging at my sleeve. I know what happens next. This is a dream, so I know what happens, because I choose it.
Why did I choose this? You are crying. You don’t do that often. You are looking into my eyes, and you are sad, and afraid. Did I make you afraid?
It’s after the restaurant. I couldn’t understand your words before, but now they are in my ears, going back and forth like the tongue of a bell. Come back. Come back.
Back where? I am here, where are you?
Why did I start dreaming to begin with? You were in love with life, and with me. Was I in love with you? Did that scare me?
I was always waiting to sink to the bottom. I was waiting for a cue.
It’s after the restaurant. I am dreaming. I’m walking on a bridge. There is a small lake. But no, it is a river, because I have decided. And it is not small, not at all, and it is in fact very far down, I have decided this too. Or was it always a river? Was I dreaming to begin with?
But the sun is on me as I leap off the bridge. Halfway to the bottom I decide to sprout wings, and I wait, patiently, to see what happens next.
Gaud are you okay?
i’m a melodrama bitch
How is your writing always so beautiful and vibrant but unsettling at a level so deep my lizard brain wants to hide
Probably ignore it then go back to making male tears mugs and gifs
Actually this is a very common idea among feminists
It’s something feminists have been talking about for years it’s called toxic masculinity and it’s one of the common threads among the topic of ‘Patriarchy hurts men too’. If fact the first time I read about toxic masculinity was on a feminist blog.
If you actually read things feminists talk about instead of straw manning them you might know this but OH WELL
i talk about the dangers of toxic masculinity all the fucking time
OP: *posts something insightful about the damage strict gender roles do to men*
Second poster: Let’s see feminists ignore equality when men are the ones suffering! Feminists are evil and only care about their own suffering!
Feminist: Actually this is called *describes issue* and it’s something we’ve been fighting against on your behalf for decades.You should join us.
Second poster: …
Feminist:
Second poster: … Yeah, I just wanted to make you look bad, not actually change anything, you know?
it was women who helped me realize I didn’t have to buy into a bullshit macho lifestyle. Women and feminist ideals helped me realize there is no reason for me to feel ashamed to be emotional and loving– and it’s made me a stronger person.
Feminism, in short, helped me as a man. I will always appreciate and listen to my sisters and their compassion, tenacity, resilience and courage. ❤
Anxiety-prone-human 