If dreams occur because reality shifts into sequences and give a human being series of the strange specific pathway to open the doors of truth over desires and fantasy over morality that sometimes predicts the future of someone, it may look like something out of a classic painting, or Van Gogh's, or Breton's manifesto surrealism or even the impressionist Claude Monet — or simply falling off a building.

Though in dreams, someone will say it is their escapade, their haven, their call of past, their deja vus and jamais vu — but the occurrence of dreams are a horror to someone. And that someone is me.

Nobodies are like masses of droplets of raindrops collapsing on the ground and vanishing like smoke; they lit as the fire and at the same time, water as it is called the rain. Nobodies are treated as no faces in a dream. They represent the being of a human in the realm of this world. Sometimes, they are the persona of our hidden self, sometimes, they are feelings, a place, or a person.

Although nobodies can have faces, it is often that they remain clueless and distinct faces. Faint like a whisper, their touch is almost as the ghostly one and in the gist of it, it is as if they never touch us.

And we forget about their existence. I wonder if nobodies are considered to exist in our realm but are used as a subject to define meanings behind our waking life?

I want to be somebody in someone's waking life. To escape the amenities of the horror the somebodies are facing. I want to be there to breathe a small fresh air and be like a little fairy guiding someone who lost their way.

I guess then in dreams, nobodies want to escape too.

annoyance, I was branded due to my flamboyance
joyance, connected to divine i am clairvoyance
I swim to the shore from the sheltered deep
I swim to the top to feel the sun’s heat
anything in hopes I do not repeat
the way I felt under you, the way you painted me so blue and alone
a throne in an empty castle
a never-ending mental battle
me versus your voice embedded in my head
I travel to the nearest chapel to rebuke you
I unravel in my travels to run away
the problems return day by day
no amount of drugs and buds will resolve
the problems just seem to evolve
with every folk and wind in the road
with every smoke and grind blown
I gotta face my own
reflection, deflecting blame
rejection, embargoed in shame
protection, from you and your games