My dream was coming to an end. I’d been wrestling with my desperate self all night, wrapped in my sheet like a winding cloth. I no longer cared about anything but I did of course, worried about the family that I never had. Logic never entered into the equation-no wonder nothing ever added up.

The thousand eyed night, that great black spider, watched me twisting and turning in turmoil, agonizing about being alive and all its wonderful and sad ramifications. Alone in my bed, free of affection and unburdened by love, why weren’t my dreams the sweetest?

Curled up in the ground in my lunatic’s burrow, my hackles stood up at the thought of tomorrow. This gift and curse of sight across the event horizon cut me deep, slicing into my animal happiness. The creature that I could have been was leaping over ravines in a distant dream, while I rode a broken down nightmare.

Soon the new day will spill its light across my bed, laughing at me so terrified of death yet not knowing life. I chide myself for hiding underground and hating those who don’t. Finally just before the dawn, lovely sleep comes and wakes me up.