• I wish so much that I could say nightmares were never real. I wish so much I could say I’ve never been haunted by one. But when, for me, as a wish ever come true? The nightmares find me when the moon hates the earth and her brother, crawling from the darkness in my room. They surround me, and grab for me with icy fingers tainted with dark memories. They bend and twist as they slither and swirl around my bed, singing their song. Their words are heavy and hit the floor before my bed, but I know.
    I know.
    The voices merge together as the song slips from their warped mouths, forming into one mocking voice. They grab, tease, slither and sing, all night long until I want to scream. Until at last the sunlight, with rosy fingertips, stretches into my room through the window like a warm, brilliant mist. At long last, my room transforms into the sanctuary I’ve come to depend on. Oh how I wish I could say that. But I fear that when I open my eyes, I am not awake--no, never awake--only more aware.