What I Think About When I Think About Nothing

I have three nightmares in a row and if I didn’t want to curl up into a little ball for the rest of the semester before, well.

The first one: I see a building explode, a man jump off a cliff, and then the cherry on top, I have front row seats to the blast of an erupting volcano as it showers magma over its surroundings. The heat strips me of my skin, and spots of fire scald me. It hurts, it burns so badly, but I can’t react to anything, my eyes are fixed on the magma as it chariots through the air and everything hurts from the waist down and I feel the edge of my mortality curl up like paper in flames.

I wake up in a cold sweat and with the sting of tears in my eyes, and immediately gag. My legs hurt, imaginary burns still peppering my skin. I check my phone – it’s 4 a.m. and everything is terrible. The first thing I do is open up my Tumblr and write down my dream. The second thing I do is text the GS: “I know you like scary dreams but I don’t and now I can’t go back to sleep…”

I get up. Pee. Scroll through my dash. Things simmer down. I go back to sleep.


The second one: everything is much blurrier, but I see my father, and he’s on his death bed but he’s trying to tell me a fucked up family secret. I look at his withered face and I want to scream. He says things that he shouldn’t.

My alarm goes off. It’s 8 a.m. and jesus fucking christ, everything is terrible. I have a meeting at 9. I push the alarm back and try to just rest. I fall asleep instead.


The third one: my sister is in a pool with someone she keeps referring to as her soulmate. He’s a guy from my macroeconomics class, except his eyes are huge and his mouth is huge and he doesn’t seem to know how to speak. I walk by the edge of the pool and in it at the same time; she’s drowning, she’s drowning and he’s pulling her down but I can’t move to save her.

My fourth alarm goes off. It’s 8:30 a.m. and everything is so, so, terrible, and my throat is dry with the words I meant to call out to her, and holy shit, how is it that a day can be ruined before it begins,

but there’s no time to do, what, complain?, and I pry myself out of my bed. What other choice do I have, living on the clock, waiting for another round of sleep, for whatever surprises are in store for me tonight…


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