Dreaming of angels indicates either that we are searching for a figure which will give us unconditional love and support, or that we need to develop these qualities in ourselves. We may also need to introduce religious concept in our lives. As more people become conscious of the concept of angelic figures, the awareness of the need for purity becomes more apparent, whether that is purity of thought, emotion, or being.
"Eliza," a man whispered.
I turned around slowly. The person standing before me was breathtakingly beautiful. He stood over six feet tall and had dark hair and tan skin. But even that couldn't distract me from the fact that he was a stranger, he knew my name, and I was alone.
"You have to help me," he whispered now. The guy looked around like someone was following him. "You're the only one who can."
I wanted to help him. I really did. But I found myself shaking my head anyway. "I can't."
He dropped his head, turning around. I don't know how I managed to miss them before, but he had wings. Actual wings. They were pure white, and had to have had a span of at least six feet.
The guy turned to look at me again. "They're coming!" he yelled, looking panicked.
All of a sudden, three older men with wings stepped out of the darkness. One grabbed his arms, and the other two each grabbed a wing.
I tried to open my eyes, knowing that this all had to be a dream. I finally managed to open my eyes, but not before I saw the angel's wings being ripped off.
I woke up in a cold sweat. I could still hear the scream from the angel echo through my ears.
It was creepy, the dream. Even though I had never met the guy before, I couldn't help but feel that we were supposed to meet.That's ridiculous, I thought. It was just a dream. He probably wasn't even real. But even as I got ready for school, the scream still rang through my ears.
I was sleep deprived.
Honestly, I was always sleep deprived. After my mom died, I basically stopped sleeping. It was probably because no one knew how she died. Not even now, two years later. She went out for a drive one night, and she was gone. Someone reported seeing the body unharmed. They ruled it wasn't a natural death. They also disregarded all the other causes of death, too.
Since then, I constantly have nightmares. Sometimes they aren't even that scary, but those are the ones the follow the overly-scary-it's-not-even-possible ones.
I took therapy for a few months, but my dad decided that the sessions weren't helping the slightest bit. The doctor said to try some sleeping pills. Nothing. The he suggested CD's that were proven to help people sleep. Nada. He suggested yoga. Zip. Zilch. Nothing.
I eventually just gave up. I figured if my body needed sleep that badly, it would make some effort to try and sleep. But it didn't. And it still hasn't. I probably sleep less than eight hours a week.
The funny thing is I don't get dark circles or bags under my eyes. I've nevre had one tiny little bag or any sign of a circle. My dad says I'm lucky. I say something weird is going on.
I mean, seriously. In sixteen years, I've never had one dark circle. If I got a bad cut, in two days, I have only one tiny little scratch. I've never broken or sprained anything and I did plenty of sports where I could have. It's almost like magic.
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