I see darkness in my dreams.
The darkness hints at a sense of peace just beyond the tips of my outstretched fingers. But it is never truly reachable, like a woman for whom you bare your soul but she refuses to give yours even the slightest of glances. It is a short-lived respite and I welcome its frigid embrace for the quickening moment that I am allowed; for I will soon wake up, and that is never pleasant. This brief moment of darkness–this gentle kiss from the Night Mother–is all I now await; all I now desire; all I now portend.