apparently, he decided to sing me lullabies before i go to sleep. sometimes, it does help but it doesn’t keep me from conjuring up dreams of the dreaded Zombie Apocalypse.
i don’t think it is solely because of him that i keep on dreaming those morbid and macabre nightmares.
there’s something brewing inside me that i can’t figure out… again.
anyways, i like to keep on telling him to play Left4Dead with me. it sort of relieves the pressure of being the hero(?) of my lucid and vivid dreams.
and what’s funny is, my weapon of choice? a measly fruit knife. how do i even...?