It’s strange how I remembered my dreams. They gave me questions. Sometimes in my dreams I became a fool of love. Sometimes, even in my own dream, I dreamed to be a stranger. And the worst is I dreamed about my own death. What were they mean? What’s in those dreams should be so bizarre? Were they just the place that so entirely different of what I knew, so far away from my real world? Or were they just the thoughts passing through my unconscious mind? I keep forcing myself to believe that dreams are some form of communication to the future. Dreams are prophecy. Maybe dreams are the matter of why or when. But I guess they’re best never answers.
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