The ghosts are screaming
in my head again
The ones I’ve wronged
The ones I’ve righted
I think my soul
lays in the balance
But if I’m being honest
I’m not sure who
I want to win
Falling asleep, your eyes flutter closed.
Imagine you’re standing straight up in an empty room. You fall backwards, when you hit the floor you shatter like glass into a million pieces.
But the room flips upside down and on the other side of the floor your pieces reassemble so that you’re standing standing straight up again.
Your eyes flutter open. You look around, confused. You don’t realize it, but this is your nightmare. And things are about to get bad.
But nothing comes out
From my lungs
But no matter
How hard I try
Nothing comes out
Not a single sound
I don’t dream often, normally my nights are sleepless or slithered with nightmares. But once in a rare while I dream, and once in an even rarer while I have a dream worth dreaming. This is one such dream.
Slowly my eyes opened, for a brief moment I wasn’t sure where I was. The world comes to focus and I realize I am in my room, in my bed. Still feeling a bit lost I look to my left and there you are, lying next to me, looking at me. For a moment I was confused, but quickly it felt… right.
I don’t know how long you had been watching me, but when you saw my eyes open a smile that was sad and delicate spread across your face. But your eyes… I was feeling myself getting pulled in. They were so sad, but God so fucking beautiful. I reached over and gently brushed a stray hair from your face, as much as an excuse to touch you as to push away the hair. You didn’t say a word, just closed the already short gap, leaning in to kiss me.
Your lips, somehow both so familiar – as if they were the only lips I had ever known, and so electric – as if I had never felt or tasted anything so perfect. Soft and deep, it felt like the kiss lasted a lifetime, our tongues slipping carefully, deliberately in and around each other, as if each movement was vital, each moment was essential.
When you pulled away your smile went from sad to real, a subtle change that most would have missed, but I felt right down to my core. Both of us naked under the covers you climbed on top me, looking down at me, our eyes locked, your hair draped down cascading over me, almost as if it were blocking out the rest of the world.
We stared into each others eyes for a while, finally, I broke the silence and whispered your name. You leaned down, the tip of your nose playfully, lovingly caressing the tip of mine. I couldn’t help but feel your nipples hard against my chest, swaying slightly as you rocked gently left and right, almost a slight erotic dance, your eyes never leaving mine.
Rocking, you are pressed against me and I am so hard I can’t wait anymore, so I slide my hands down slowly, starting at your shoulders, breasts, down to your hips where I grip firmly, lifting you up and settling down onto me. Slowly, easing you down as if I knew I needed to savor each moment, each fraction of an inch as you lowered until finally, I was completely, deeply inside of you. Biting your lower lip I could see the urgency building in your eyes and knew you could see the hunger in mine.
Dreams aren’t always exactly linear, so I don’t know how to precisely express what I experienced. It was as if while we were making love we crashed into each other, our tides pulling us deeper and deeper, we took our time – slow and deep, we were urgent – harder, faster passionate, we climaxed – wave after wave, somehow this was all at once and all stretched out for some time.
At some point we were finished, you collapsed on top of me, and that weight of you one me was one of the most perfect feelings I can remember having. And all we could whisper to each other, in husky spent voices, was “I love you.”
I guess this is around when I woke up. Both sad for having woken up and ending the dream, and also filled with such a feeling of being content – something I am not familiar with, but fuck I liked it.
If I have to suffer through ten thousand nightmares just to have one dream like this, it is more than worth it.
Night is always a paradox for me. The day is filled with masks, I’m never me. The night is the only time I feel close, but not exactly, myself.
But the night is also when the nightmares come out. Demons and monsters from my past, my self included, terrorizing me. Flesh ripped from bone, and skulls crushed with stone.
I’ve had nightmares for as long as I can remember. Certainly I’ve had trauma in my life, terrible things no one should have to suffer, and they all play parts in my nightmares now, but my nightmares started even before then, when I was 3.
I’ve never told anyone exactly what those dreams were, and I expect I never will. To be honest, it would probably seem silly now, but to a 3 year old, it was terrifying.
Maybe I was wired wrong from the beginning. Who knows. Hell, if I go more than a week without them I feel… off. As if something is missing. They have become, no, they have always been a part of me.
Still, I hate them. I nightmare more nights than I don’t, and over the years have resisted sleep more and more. The only time I get to sleep peacefully is when I’m drunk, or when the sun is out, as if it were a Devine flashlight scaring the demons away.
So… The night. The only time I feel something close to the real me, but also the time that my demons get to feast on me. I sometimes wonder what happens when there is nothing left of me for them to devour.
The paradox of the night. My savior, my prison. My paradox.
That aren’t dreams
They pull me open
Tear me apart
And flip me inside out
A visit to the past
A reminder of horrors
Done to me
Done by me
I cannot close
I cannot look away from
Eating a bit more
Of who I am