Diary of a Lovely Dream

I want to tell a story. A story of love and dreams, a story of monsters and death, of the forgotten and the remembered. This story will be hard to believe, but even harder to tell. Though be assured, there is truth in every word. First, I need you to accept that, second, I need you to feel it, and thirdly, I need you to understand. This story is, in all its flaws and glory, truly, the Diary of a Dream. A Lovely dream.  It started when I was a child, maybe more accurately a pre-teen, but we’ll stick with child for now. I was young, my brother two years younger and our connections equivalent. Anyway, when we were young, we would visit a place, a place I will call the dreamscape from here on out. This world, like ours in almost every way, except the monsters. The monsters would appear when those who did not belong would visit, appear to kill those visitors and erase the memory of them from the minds of the residents. The residents, mirrors of ourselves, or connections, as we would come to