• Nightmares and Dreams

    Nightmares, nightmares and ghosts,
    Because I am alone.
    Dreams spring to life
    As I lay in bed, waiting for Sleep to take me,
    Sleep, Death’s cousin.
    I wait for Sleep,
    Her porcelain skin,
    Her absent eyes,
    Crumbling, clawed hands.
    Perfect wings, decaying with rust,
    Sweep over me as her dress,
    Tattered, burned, torn,
    Wafts in the night breeze.
    I want the gift of sleep.
    But hovering behind her,
    Their little hands grasping her dress,
    Stand Dream and Nightmare.
    Dream waves her tiny hand,
    Her dress the purest hues,
    Her hair falling in waves and curls
    Down her fragile frame.
    Her brother, the grim-faced Nightmare,
    Stands opposite her,
    His armorous clothes
    Glisten in the lurid light.
    This boy, wrought from sadness, wrath, anger, horror,
    Waits patiently.
    For, though his task is gruesome,
    It opens the eyes of mortals
    Who live in their minds.
    Now Sleep puts on her blindfold,
    Waving her staff over me.
    Her children come to me.
    Breathe in, breathe out.
    Dream takes my hand,
    Nightmare takes the other.
    Breathe in, Breathe out.
    My eyes drift closed,
    My Protection slips around me.
    Into my mind enter Dream, Nightmare, and Protection.
    I settle.
    Breathe in, breathe out.
    Darkness overtakes,
    My mind wanders,
    I sleep.