It was all just a dream...

I was dreaming about you last night. You kept showing up in all the places of my secret mind; the lake by the highway, the apartment where I had never been, a park I think does not really exist. You were there. You were mysterious and brooding like when we were young. You had a long black coat on and your hair was blue and black. I think you were waiting for me but I was never going to be able to reach you with all these obstacles in my way. I knew someone else (someone prettier and thinner than me) would find you and draw you away before I could ever make my way to you. Why does this highway never end? Why are you always walking away? If I scream will I wake up?

I've been having nightmares. Every night I dream I am in a darkened room and I desperately need the lights on. I can feel something in the dark waiting for me. Waiting to reach up and grab me. Something bad is going to happen in all this darkness. I try every light in every room. They glow and flicker for a moment and die. I'm still in the dark and I can see faces peering at me illuminated from somewhere under the skin. I know they are ghosts. Who are you the ghosts of? Why are you here? To distract me from the mass of arms and hands reaching up behind me to drag me down? Where is the head of this many limbed monster? I want to tear it off so it will stop clawing and grabbing at me. But even when I get it's sharped-toothed head between my thighs and dig my fingers into its neck and twist and the flesh tears away until I holding it's monstrous form in my hands-- all those arms still grab at me; choking me, dragging me. Where are they dragging me? I scream for my mother and wake up.

Tonight I am in a very old house. It's Victorian form looms over me. It twists and turns and the walls change as I pass from corridor to corridor. This place is shifting; breathing, living. At the top of a stairway that wasn't there before I find a haunted room. I can feel the spirits twisting around me; disturbing the gossamer curtains covering the windows that cast the room in a filmy light. Did you die here? Or did I die here?

Maybe it is you who is haunting me. Sending me these dreams to invade my mind so I will never sleep again. I will become a waking dream walking through an enveloping fog in the really real world. I will be the ghost. People will pass through me with a dim recollection of touching something soft; something warm. I will run my hands through their minds. Touch their memories. And stream my fingers through their hearts. Whatever is coming to pull me down will grasp at my feet and my shoulders and will find itself passing through mist. It's many arms will mean nothing.

But it's still waiting for me. It's eyes are glowing red. It's hiding in my dark room. Please turn the lights on. I need the lights on.