Don't Want to Listen to Dreams
It was one of the other nights I was sleepless. I was just waiting for sleep to catch me in the bed where I lay still. These were the periods when I thought sleeping was necessary and people should sleep at certain hours.
I haven't met vampires yet, I didn't let them take over my body and my self. My body was frustrated by insomnia, and many other questions from that day and earlier occupied my head. Why did the notion of a sublime creature appear in almost every stage of history, in every culture and in society, even in different forms?
Why were people so curious to worship a place and make various sacrifices? Suddenly a film appeared in front of me: In the shadows of the great trees where colorful fruits were swinging on the filthy soils, under a blue sky, the beautiful and young people of half-naked lives lived an eternal life where they could satisfy their indisputable pleasures. This is heaven. I fell asleep by leaving my face in my dreams.
I don't want anyone telling me about my dream anymore. I see the most intimate places of subconscious minds and minds of people in their dreams. Who knows how much pleasure you've got if I went to such an accident. I've moved away from humanism to admit that we enjoy suffering the suffering of others.
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