June 13, 2014

I sit sprawled out on a Lay-Z-Boy

Anticipating what’s next

For my mind, for my soul, for the very part of me that questions,

“What’s next?”

I slip into unconsciousness, REM seals my eyelids

A rush of orange and red inhabit a room, a space where in is out

And close is far

Commercials pierce through the background

Lawyers and Snuggies introduce themselves to the part of my soul

That only shows itself in my dreams

But these commercials aren’t what worry me.

They don’t concern me. 

Once I was concerned of the background, of being connected with everything,

Of being in charge.

Now I know that my own wellbeing is most important.

So I pay attention to what is perceived through my sleep.

Sometimes it’s feelings.

Sometimes it’s dreams.  But now, it’s a

P-U-L-S-E.

The beating of a drum

The heartbeat of something unrecognizable, of something malicious.

The pulse is outside of me, yet I don’t feel safe. 

My entire being gives into it, uncontrollably.

I don’t know how to respond. 

My head is tilted.

No one knows but me that I am feeling this.

I feel my body quaking with it.

And I wake.