Perchance to Dream…

She strokes me lightly between the shoulder blades, sending pleasant shivers traveling down my spine.

“Why can’t you sleep?”

I’ve been up for hours. Tension and runaway thoughts have robbed me of desperately needed rest and to add insult to injury, have conspired to render any creative endeavors like writing or art…impossible. Frazzled might best describe it.

Even reading, normally a pleasant distraction, isn’t happening. I drop the book I’ve been attempting on the coffee table without bothering to mark the place. I’ve read the same page at least a dozen times, and I’ve no idea what it said.

Hers was not an idle question, so I attempt an answer. I try to keep it lighthearted, but fail utterly, both in tone and message, “Sleep is for pussies.”


“No babe.”

Well…not quite anyway.

Nightmares, the kind that haunt dreams, long ago ceased to phase me. My dreams can’t come close to some of what I’ve met in reality. Imagined terror and dreamed about pain pale in comparison to the real thing.

My nightmares walk the earth. What power could they possibly have in my dreams?

“Want to talk about it?

I do actually, desperately. But then neither of us would sleep…and at least one of us should try to stay sane.

She strokes my back again, and the shivers travel all the way to my feet.

Perhaps her touch

A warm and willing woman. Perhaps the key to my sanity.

At least for tonight.

I wonder sometimes…if they know just what it is they hold.

Daniel Meyer

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