Wednesday, May 6, 2009


Fear leaves a metallic taste in my mouth; blood does too but this is fear. Complete and total shock-the-senses fear. A sound, a rustle, a hint of someone in the room. But there's no one there. I'm alone with the reality that it was all just a dream; a bad dream but a dream nonetheless.


My shirt is soaked, clinging to my skin. The bed is in a disarray from tossing and turning; attempts to outrun the demons are futile. One day I'll learn to just let them have their way and pick up the pieces afterward. Eyes adjusting to the dark of the room, I twist to see the clock on the side of the bed. The numbers are red and accusing. 2:47. There's no more sleeping for me. It's one of those thing you just know.


Steam rising from the shower. "Don't remember" you tell yourself repeatedly but it's pointless. You've had the dream so many times before that it's permanently etched into your brain. The visions won't leave your head no matter what you do. Why do you even still try?


Sheer exhaustion. It takes over at some point in the morning but you keep moving. The hope is that if you stay awake long enough, you'll be able to sleep dreamless through the night. Why fool yourself? It hasn't worked yet.

GIST - The Sunday Edition # 175

It's been awhile since I have done one of these although my offline gratitude practice remains on point. In no particular order, here ar...