Dreams and Death and Depression and Bad Alliteration

I have the most fucked up feeling in my chest right now.

I’m sorry for cursing, I know my mom might read this, but I can’t think of any other way to word it.

I feel like I’m on the verge of a fucking heart attack. I feel like I’m going to die or something. I’ve had this tight feeling in my chest for hours and it won’t go away. I don’t know what to do, so here I am writing about it, because that’s what I said I’d do and everyone keeps telling me it’ll make me feel better.

One of my biggest fears is that I’ll eventually be murdered by the police. The prospect of being murdered in general always makes me so sad for the reason that the person’s last moments alive were probably so scary and that’s so unfair. That’s the first thing I think of every time I watch Criminal Minds or whatever crime show is on, or I hear someone’s been killed in real life. The first thing I think of is how their whole entire life has probably been relatively normal and probably even happy, up until right before they died. The last thing they got to experience on earth was fear and pain. What a shitty way to go.

I can’t remember if I’ve always thought this (mainly because I can’t remember anything in general) but I think I can pinpoint why. A few years ago when I was a victim of an armed home invasion and I was trapped in a closet (and now I can’t even laugh at that joke anymore) it was one of the first things I thought. I was in high school, and I remember having a pretty normal and happy day that day. And then that night my life was in real, actual danger and it made me think that not one enjoyable thing that’s ever happened to me even matters at this point because I’m about to be shot to death. I don’t know if this is a normal thing to think, although I’ll give myself a pass because I was under a lot of stress at that moment and I thought a lot of other weird things too.

The point I’m trying (probably badly) to make is that death scares me and I can’t not obsess about the last few scary moments in the life of a person who dies violently or another scary way. Keep that in mind.

Last night I had a dream that I was in Austin with one of my friends. We got off at the wrong bus stop so we just walked to wherever our destination was. As we walked, we noticed two police officers screaming at some people. We tried to get away, but the cops started shooting so we hit the ground and were forced to helplessly watch these cops kill a bunch of people. This is a little out of line with my normal dreams, only in the sense that it made sense. My dreams almost always involve senselessness and violence, often in connection to each other, but very rarely are they inspired by real world events or my actual fears. It’s usually just scary things or strange things happening for no reason.

So this dream was weird in two ways: 1) cops randomly killing people is a real world thing that happens and 2) this is an actual fear of mine. And when I woke up this morning I had the most fucked up feeling in my chest.

After so many years of having dreams that scare me senseless, I still don’t have a real way of coping with it. I wake up feeling scared and exhausted, and it usually weighs on my mind for a bit while I get ready for the day. It sucks, really, but everyone has their shit they have to get through. Today, though, this dream has really done a number on me. I haven’t felt this debilitated or stressed or whatever this feeling is in a long time.

I think the reason this is fucking with me so much is because it’s making me feel exactly how I did a few months ago at the peak of my depression. I have the same feeling of uselessness and worthlessness inside of me and it’s pissing me off that a dream of all things could reignite this feeling. It’s not fair.

I am terrified that I will actually be killed by a cop. It’s been my number one fear for years. It scares me so bad because it feels so tangible and I’m so convinced of it, so I often feel like I’m just waiting for those last few seconds of my life to be filled with pain and fear.

I’m scared of the last moment of my life being scary.

I don’t want to leave my house today, in fear that this dream was somehow prophetic. Maybe I don’t want to leave the house because of the depression. I can’t really tell what it is. All I know right now is that I feel scared and pathetic and angry and a clusterfuck of feelings that is at the same time making me feel so empty. Funny how that works, huh?

I don’t really have an ending here; I’m just shouting all this shit out into the void because it’s supposed to make me feel better. When I was in therapy, my therapist told me it was good to talk about my feelings, which sounds like the stupidest shit in the world. I can’t tell if it worked or not. Maybe it’s still working. I honestly have no idea. So in the mean time, expect more needlessly long blog posts of me working through the dumb shit my brain keeps throwing at me. Cus at the moment, this is really all I’ve got.

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