Mar 2012
Night One- 2:17 a.m
Night Two- 4:58 a.m
Night Three- 1:03 a.m
To sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream. Yes- there IS the rub. My anesthesia plays a foul trick….. an illusion of sleep-slipping, in and out of lucid nightmares. Trapped and tangled between cold and crumbling sheets-reaching, grasping like a blind man spun about in dizzy circles. Banging on sealed doors- silent screams won’t help me now. Every time a child says, ‘I don’t believe in fairies,’ there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead. I do not dream of fairies, Peter. They’ve left me here with no way out.
Night Two- 4:58 a.m
Night Three- 1:03 a.m
To sleep. To sleep, perchance to dream. Yes- there IS the rub. My anesthesia plays a foul trick….. an illusion of sleep-slipping, in and out of lucid nightmares. Trapped and tangled between cold and crumbling sheets-reaching, grasping like a blind man spun about in dizzy circles. Banging on sealed doors- silent screams won’t help me now. Every time a child says, ‘I don’t believe in fairies,’ there is a fairy somewhere that falls down dead. I do not dream of fairies, Peter. They’ve left me here with no way out.
