How to Escape Doom or Not (Inspired by multiple dreams)

Dark molars falling out of my mouth? Have I lost something precious, and it was time to move on? There’s a strange hand touching mine. I don’t what hand that it is or why it is approaching me. I have to run to escape a barrage of words from an anti-depressant, over-the-counter drug induced person sleeping next to me who related unrelated events, telling stories of what could’ve been but never should’ve happened. I have to escape a barrage of bullets because unkind times are following me everywhere and every things that falls in every place I go is a scare. I wake up sweating from a night’s half-baked sleep wondering where I am when I am faced by a reality that doesn’t fit me, and I try to change the fit but it doesn’t work because life isn’t a shop where fits are fitted. So, I run adapting to what the faithful tell me to adapt to because if I can’t change then I adapt. I feel like everyone is setting me in a trap trying to unravel my vulnerabilities. Their smiles are missiles, their gazes are blames, and their eyes’ avoidance is their guilt and my shame. So, I know that tomorrow I will reach for the unattainable, but it doesn’t matter because I’ve done it before. I know some people say that I can’t have it because I’m not cut out for it and it’s not the man who fits the cloth but the cloth that fits the man. But I know someone who is willing to sign the contract that I am so willing to escape. I tell myself not to sign, but my idle hand is moving inevitably toward the deal with Mephistopheles look-alike, smirk on the outside, brimstone on the inside, both of us wishing things had never come to be. I search for the exit, there’s light at the end of my sleep. I wake and I never escape.