The Worst Of Dreams
As many of you know
I suffer nightly terrors.
Almost every time I close my eyes,
I am greeted with horror and mayhem.
But the worst dreams,
Far more painful than the not-so-subtle
Carnivals of broken bodies and
Having to watch as Loved Ones are harmed,
Fall into a different category altogether.
These.. Awful… Terrible… panoramics
Feature little to no bloodshed,
No monster hunting or being hunted,
No evil thing lurking just out of sight.
These dreams are idyllic in their beauty.
Vivid with colour and vibrant energy,
They entice and entangle all of the senses.
They show, in every minute detail,
What I was like when I was healthy.
When my body wasn’t just a trap of pain;
A burden to carry through every heartbeat of the day.
A life filled with movement, sweat, and vitality.
Moments when I was the best of things: NORMAL.
I can love my forever mate,
Play with my children and grandchildren,
Work at something with my back and hands.
I can LIVE.
And then I waken once again
Into this horrible prison of Pain.
This empty husk that I have become…
And I weep…