I Dream of Suicide

I had the most horrid dream. A dream unlike any other dream. A dream that has me thinking. A dream that has made me cry. A dream that taught me the most valuable lesson of all. I know there are others like me who dealt with the hardships of life and this cruel world, so I might as well post this as a warning to anyone. That warning is to never cave in to the thoughts of suicide. It may seem like the only solution, but it's not. And I learned that the hard way when I took an overdose and past out that night.

Everything was black and white. I was all alone in my house. It was raining outside. And the smell of death filled the air.

I was being chased by a monster. He had sharp fangs and vicious-looking claws. And pure black, soulless eyes that can see right through you. Straight into your soul. His flesh was rotting, and you can see the bones showing. He was like half man, half beast or something. He hungered for one thing, and one thing alone. He was hungry for my heart.

I managed to outrun the beast as I entered a strange hallway. There were six doors, each one covered in blood. Something evil could be lurking behind those doors. But I didn't care. All I cared was finding an escape from that vile creature.

I tried the first door, but I soon regreted it. There was an old, nasty woman feasting on dead embryos. Piles of aborted fetus were scattered all over the floor. I couldn't bear the sight anymore. I slammed the door and quickly tried the second one.

It was even worst then the first. A man has been torned open by a deranged doctor. His organs were showing, and you can see the heart beating within. But that's not all. His head has been sliced open to reveal the brain, pulsing with each second. I puked my guts out and quickly shut the door as I moved to the next one.

The third was more disgusting. There was a woman chopped in half! Her left side was reading a magazine on the left side of the room while her right side was applying make-up on the right side of the room. I was even more grossed out then ever. Again I slammed the door shut and head towards the fourth.

My jaw dropped at what I was greeted with in the next room. There was a young boy being hanged by his own intestines. His eyes and mouth were sewn shut. His arms and legs covered in bruises. And the creepiest of all was that he shown a malicious smile. I was shaken to the point of insanity.

I tried the fifth door, but quickly slammed it shut as I back away in horror. There was a  cannibalic chef making a full course meal out of human beings. What's worst is that he's doing this to them when they're alive! I puked some more as I sobbed loudly, wanting this hellish nightmare to end.

I finally made it to the sixth door. I pray to God that this was way out of this mess. But sadly, my prayers were never answered.

I opened the sixth door and was shocked at what I saw. It was... it was... it was me! I was completely covered in blood. My wrists and throat were slit. And I was crying blood. On the floor, right where the other me was standing, were the dead bodies of all my friends and families. I fell to the floor as my eyes burst into tears, screaming in agony as my rage mixed in with my sorrow.

But then something caught my eye as it made me smile. There was a loaded pistol laying on the ground. My one salvation. My ounce of hope. The only chance to be free. I took it firmly in my hand, closed my eyes, and pulled the trigger.

Then I woke up with vomit (containing the pills along with the massive amount of alcohol) all over myself and the floor. I cried my eyes out at the most foolish thing that I have ever done to myself. If it weren't for that dream, I would have never pushed myself to get therapy and tried to cope with my illness.

Even though I'm slowly going into recovery, I'm still haunted by that dream. Every single night.