My Dreams

My dreams are not of happy things
They are not of warm summer days
Nor of happy memories
My dreams are of the past
And of the present
My dreams are of death and destruction
Of depression and sadness
I am now realizing these are not dreams
Reality hits me, and it is all becomming real.
I feal lonely, and it is real
I feel angry, and it is real
But...if I am wrong and all these emotions are but a dream.....
i have to wake up