“Sweet Dreams,”
Mom would say
when she sent me to bed

But…


My dreams have never been sweet

In the sleeping otherworld
I am despised reviled hated pursued maligned chastised excoriated mocked and scorned
I am lost abandoned confused terrified and helpless
Even familiar places and comforting faces
Become hideous antimatter versions of themselves

No, Mom, there are no sweet dreams for me
There never have been
I just never told you.