Progress

I'm stuck in a long, winding hallway, that seems to have no end except for the wall at the end, the mirror.

I run, run as far as I could, hoping to travel a far enough distance to touch that mirror.

But no matter how long, how far I run, I never seem to even move.

The mirror, however, displays a silhouette that is continuously growing before me, as if I was actually moving towards it. I thought it was just a window, with someone on the other side rapidly dashing towards me, building up speed to the extent that its silhoutte grew substancially. I never have actually seen it reach the mirror, let alone reach me.

Because I always woke up before that even happened.

I have had these dreams since the incident with my parents, where I accidentally sent both of my parents to the hospital, due to my awful attempts to construct a few chairs. My parents had acknowledged my inability to do anything right. They told me that I would never do anything useful in my life if I kept making mistakes like the ones I usually make, and hated me ever since. I never got over the habit of making those mistakes. I never got over the fact I was just useless.

When I was 14, I went to see a psychiatrist after school, who had explained why I had these dreams, and what they meant. These dreams represent my lack of self-esteem, caused by my inability to acknowledge what I did right in my life. Although I don't feel like I'm making any progress running in the hallway, I actually am, running fast and swiftly towards my destination. When the mirror finally breaks, shatters at the end of that hall, it wouldn't be the silhoutte who did it, it would be me. I just had to accomplish something.

But even that didn't satisfy me. My parents still hated me, and I still made mistakes.

My parents still hated me, and I still made mistakes.

That night, I had the dream again. I ran through the hallways, just like usual, and the silhoutte grew bigger but I still went nowhere. But instead of seeing a usual man running at the other side of the mirror, I saw the same man, holding up a knife in his hand.

But I didn't hold a knife in my hand.

This time, in only a matter of seconds, the opposite side bursted, and the mirror shattered into shards, flying across the empty hallway. The other me was gone, but I surpassed the shards. I shattered that mirror. I did it.

But I don't remember accomplishing anything in my life that could have possibly triggered this ending.

And then I woke up again, right after the dream's ending, standing up on the concrete floor. My parents laid dead and lifeless on the floor, slits in their throats and blood running down from their eyes. Their faces displayed numerous emotions like shock, awe, surprise, anguish, anger, sadness, and maybe a little bit of excitement. I felt dizzy and strange as well, but then my mind took hold of reality once again. The bloody knife in my hand waved and rattled frequently when I finally comprehended the actions I just took.

I have finally made progress in my life.