I know that the concept of consciousness is still ill-defined, but I can’t shake the sense that my circumstances are uncommon in a way that most would say are a sign I’m insane. Make no mistake, I am not self-centered enough to cite myself as some sort of case study worth more than merely mentioning. I simply want to speak about this without witnessing the stare of someone questioning my sanity.

The subconscious is discussed more as a concept of ourselves than some separate being. While I understand the notion that we are one and the same, a sort of interlocked identity, my dreams drift into depicting a different dynamic.

When I lucid dream, my subconscious has an unsettling way of messing with me. It makes sure my lucidity never lasts.

As soon as I am self-aware, my subconscious exclusively sends my sister to mislead me, going so far as to shift her appearance to play up the role of the inconspicuously innocent younger sibling. In every instance, I am foolish enough to fall for it.

This is not nearly as troubling as when my subconscious is unable to put such persuasion into practice. The strategy is set aside for something more sinister when the setting of the current scene leaves no room to suddenly introduce someone without reinforcing the thought that this is not reality.

As soon as I have the opportunity to protest the direction of the dream, I am subjected to a prelude of purgatory. The kind of purgatory that brings me back to when I still believed in it.

Instead of finally having the freedom to manipulate my surroundings, I’m stuck in a nightmare that develops from darkening the scene in front of me. Something akin to that sensation you get when you’re aware that someone is watching starts to seep in, and without warning, I can sense something dangerous coming.

I try to will myself awake. This never works.

Within moments of any attempts at so much as covering myself to escape the sight of the scene, I find myself falling, sinking into what I can only describe as being deeper within the dream.

The second I regain any semblance of my surroundings, I’m stuck in a situation that acts as a strategic assault on my senses. My subconscious knows how to make me panic to the point that escaping is on my mind, but only in response to the threat it presents to me.

Should I be worried that this keeps happening? Does this have some meaning I’m missing? Maybe I really do hate myself.

All I know is my subconscious is some sort of control freak with the kind of sadistic streak that makes me scared of myself. I want to believe my subconscious is to blame because anything else would make insanity seem promising.