I was always falling...falling into a deep dark hole that seemed to go on forever. The light from above got smaller and smaller. They always say if you hit bottom in a dream you die. I never did. I touched the dark sides of my prison and would realize it was dirt with roots sticking out from both sides. Slowly, and with determination, I would climb, falling several times and starting all over again until finally I was almost at the top. A hand reached down to help me up, which I gratefully accepted. Suddenly, the helping ...
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I was always falling...falling into a deep dark hole that seemed to go on forever. The light from above got smaller and smaller. They always say if you hit bottom in a dream you die. I never did. I touched the dark sides of my prison and would realize it was dirt with roots sticking out from both sides. Slowly, and with determination, I would climb, falling several times and starting all over again until finally I was almost at the top. A hand reached down to help me up, which I gratefully accepted. Suddenly, the helping hand became a vicelike grip. When I looked at the hand it became skeletal and I was soon face to face with a rotting corpse with flesh hanging from its bones. A manic laugh came from its lips as I backed away from this specter of death. I heard moans and screams coming from all directions. A mist that had covered the land lifted. I saw bodies crawling on the ground, in pain with various forms of injuries. I saw bodies hanging from trees and some that had been nailed to crosses with their flayed flesh hanging off of them. They were crying out for mercy...they were crying out for death. It was the dreams. Not dreams of my past lives, but something yet to come. Horrible images of death and destruction. I always woke up in a sweat, frantically searching for my children.
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