The stress keeps me awake
My bedtime is pushed forward an hour
Three hours
At three thirty I admit defeat and rest my head
Or so I think
Gritted teeth and dry mouth
Growling belly
Arching back
Aching wisdom tooth
The pillow slowly slips away from me
I try to dream up horrible fantasies
Male vulnerability
Hostages and electrodes
Conscious becomes unconscious
While I lie awake trying to be as still as a wall
Instead I tremble like a leaf attached to the tree by a millimeter
I know in the morning my blankets will seem so much softer
My dreams absolutely captivating
I'll have regretted my time of cold feet and absolute terror
The next day will bring horrors unimaginable
Humiliation, fear, rushing from place to place
And without warning I achieve what I've been waiting for
I drift away
I'm in the room of my dreams
My room
I don't remember ever physically going there but here I am
And it is so familiar.
I see it every three years in my dreams
I must belong there in some way
It is the room of my soul
The place of turning points, perhaps
All-encompassing mahogany brown
Nineteenth century
A court house, a church and a mansion all in one
Justice, religion, riches
Do I believe in any of these things?
My eyes drink it all in although I've seen it many times without remembering
I think it is in England
This place
A long table at the front
And a pulpit and an altar
It is hard to remember
But so vivid in dreams
There are other rooms
Thousands
But this room stands at the top of the mansion
A square balcony in the middle of the room opens to the rest of the house below
It is filled with gold and brown antiques
They remind me of my bookish grandmother

I see a classmate of mine from university
I sang in Chapel Choir with him
An aspiring conductor now
Always taking things seriously and getting excellent marks
He greeted me
Seeing as it was a dream I expected some wise conducting advice
Since I have no aptitude for it at all
But suddenly a frightening brown-haired marionette was pressed to my face
Muppet-like in appearance with red lips and freakish features
Beckoning me to come to her
In some dark cabaret of the mind
But I was already there
My classmate's face was impossible to see now
She consoles and coaxes
Dances with me
I know he wants to manipulate me
His puppet tells me to relax and sit down
My pink roommate barges in and doesn't seem at all curious about what is going on
She looks on the ground for what she is missing
And speaks in short confused sentences
I feel uncertain, yet relaxed
I think I am safe since my roommate is in the same room
The puppet pinches my shin and injects a clear fluid into my leg
Then extracts the blood slowly and uncomfortably
I feel strange, more faint
I open my eyes and I am in my small dark room again
My escape was a success
I still feel the pinch of the needle on my shin
So I shake off the feeling
My first instinct is to try to continue the dream
I want to know what happens next
What happened and why
And yet it was so real
The thought of continuing seemed terrible
I tried and tried but it had stopped for good
For that short time I had completely abandoned my problems and responsibilities
For more frightening new ones
I felt like I was a fictional character
A much better embodiment than being a real person
But that room
Maybe I belong there
Maybe I am something more special than I am now
The room of my dreams, my soul
The room of my past, present and future
Maybe I will call it Court Church
I was left more tired than I had ever felt after a near sleepless night
A walking zombie
The curse of Court Church