The mother of all scary dreams…

Yeah, I just had that. And now I am sitting here at 3:30 AM, as tired as I’ve ever been and can’t go back in the bedroom and can’t turn my light off. Holy shit, I’ve never been so scared in all my life. So scared I want to call people and have them come to my house and sit with me so I know everything is OK.

I can’t even begin to describe the evil that lurks and my failed attempt to escape from it. How I ran as fast as I could just to get “us” to someone else, only to have it be there too. It was waiting in the shadows, but it was everywhere. He yelled “get down, it’s here too”, and it came sweeping through the room and nestled on top of my back as I crouched low over my children, trying to shield them. I could feel it on my back, and I started to get hot. I wanted desperately to think of something to make me strong to resist it, shake it off, make me bigger, anything, but I was powerless to stop it and I knew it meant the end.

That is when I woke up, in a pool of sweat and terrified.

And now here I sit. The silence of this house is doing a damn good job keeping me in a state of panic and the only thing I can think to do is stay here with the light of the screen illuminating this space in front of me so I’m not alone in the dark…

About ShySpark

I blog, I garden, I eat cheeseburgers, and sometimes I travel. But mostly I just write poetry...
This entry was posted in From the Maker of Dreams, Journal. Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to The mother of all scary dreams…

  1. mike says:

    Damn, shy, that sounds like a doozie!

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