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A reccuring dream.
Not one of delight or self indulgence.
Nor for things desired or hoped for.
But a dream of pure anger and terror.
Always running from something;
Always afraid of someone.
As dawn breaks sleep, fear evacuates .
No where to run and no one to run from.
Terrified still, of the previous state of consciousness.
Trembling as the eventual memory dissipates.
The dream, a perpetual nightmare, now changed.
Not running from, but sprinting toward.
Still fearful, yet determined.
Still angry, yet hopeful.
When I get there, I'll be safe.
I'll save you, when i get there.
