Weariness flows through every care
as she climbs into her night’s lair.
Crawling under snug warm cover,
knowing not which dream may hover,
her eyes close to the sandman’s spell.
Tossing, turning, and restlessness on the battle’s pillow front threatens peace in dreamland. The unsettling vision hovers, seeking refuge in a disguised haven of wonderment hidden in the darkened anteroom, home to illusions’ temptress. The softly heralded trumpet plays the melodic calming anthem of hope rising above the alluring siren’s call. Thwarted by the everlasting, far-reaching beacon of light within her heart, interrupting sleepiness, she feels the motion of timeless betrayal threatening her sweet dreams.
Carrying shields of fantasy’s delights into the midnight realms of heroes and demons, truth and error, wrong and right, light and darkness, the dreamer lives, adventuring through tales of knights and valour’s rewards. Nightmarish shadows, wielding brazen weapons of blackened steel slink and slither behind a curtain of deception’s trickery, shocking one into a state of alertness and thought-provoking incredulity.
In the blink of an eye, an instant of unexpected alertness, she suddenly sits bolt upright, right amid a stupefying dream, a nightmare. This one leaves her feeling damp with cold sweaty shaking. Vividly, she still sees a gun pointed at her head, pressed against the right temple. Letting her eyelids drop in submissiveness, disbelief, and anguish, she anticipates the slow release of the trigger as he shoots, sending her into the welcome realms of death, the final sound a pop. Where is she?
Queasiness and tears burst forth, deluging the eyelash-controlled operation of dam gates opening. Confronted with the unsuspected power of the pressurized torrent rushing to escape through the barrier, churning waters, strengthening into a whirlpool threaten so she inhales deeply, holds her breath to fight the surge then falls headlong into the awaiting spiraling void.
Every nerve instinctively screams perseverance. Remember, resistance’s futility until the water’s energy presents the opportunity for escape, but her heart sinks further into abysmal darkness, seemingly transitioning endlessly downward through unfathomable depths.
Somehow, somewhere, a fresh blast of breathable air reaches her constrained lungs in this unknown, unexplored environment. The room remains bathed in blackness with a faint shadow seeping through semi-closed shutters, appropriately mirroring her shuddering frame.
Pillow-soaking terror abates,
when dawning awareness awaits.
A knight in shining armour guards
true light beyond her crystal shards,
shattered within the sandman’s spell.
Grains of night’s adventures remain,
crusted water droplets, eyes bane.
Wrapping arms around her pillow,
sighs droop like a weeping willow,
fresh release from the sandman’s spell.
Attuned vision and hearing create sensations unlike others as she drifts into the bowels of compassion, a sense of her wholeness beyond appearances. Like the delicate unrolling of a priceless musical scroll begging the musician’s limited talents to trust, an extraordinary force begins strumming her heartstrings, with full orchestral accompaniment, a masterpiece of hope performs within her soul.
She surfaces above the shores, beholding beautiful orange, yellow, and pink warmth, sunrises of joyous amazement and peaceful harmony with self in her vessel of life. Rays of unblemished, pure delicateness saturate her soul with the tranquility and serenity of gentle kisses and caresses. The depth of swelling undercurrents, cresting far beyond her horizon experiences, overwhelm and overtake her physical and mental capacities, flowing onto her pillow.
Unable and unwilling to attempt any explanation, she humbly accepts her weaknesses and the hope she perceives beyond tangible comprehension. Its gentleness and the sense of purity touching her soul, changing, purging, uplifting, and affirming richness of an infinite nature, she submissively receives.
Bowing her head, acknowledging the wonder of waking on a pillow of comforting security, before falling to her knees in grateful prayer, allows her to look upward with an open heart.
Enlightenment illuminates
her exposed soul-searching portrait.
Maneuvering through deep darkness
to bathe in harmony’s promise,
pillow battle’s wage, sandman’s spell.
Dear Reader,
True, my life’s happenings turn into adventures of late when the lights dim to tuck me snuggly into bed. Seldom remembering the escapades and escapes of dreams, I wake with the thankful breath of life.
Occasionally, moments of déjà vu cause reflection. However, more often than not, in the last month or so, visions of the night arise with the sunrise. Stark silhouettes of wonder and awe, tightly hugging my pillows, switching from one to another, three (symbolic to me), leave me breathlessly inert. Mysterious, defying interpretation in my limited capacity to understand, I reflect. Wonder, a word of opposite connotations, plays tricks. Tears of happiness, enlightenment, peace, and joy drenching my pillow cleanse my soul of fear, sorrow, and confusion.
No matter what your pillows of opposites showcase under the stars, light exists within.
I am glad you added that Dear Reader part. I was worried you were having night terrors or even worse!
Now…your assignment for the day is to have a wonderful first day of SPRING!
I insist
Liz
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