I dreamt that she was gone.
To where, there was no clue.
In the dream of panic
I felt lost.
There was no way to stop the dream.
I had to see through
all it’s insane and terrifying
turns of gloom.
Sweating I must have turned
in the sheets that slowed my efforts
to do what the insane attempt to do.
When I awoke my still-startled mind
had a weak grasp of another day.
The unreal reality of the dream
still held its dreadful terror.
But She was still there,
asleep beside me,
still breathing.
But I don’t know
if I terrified myself,
or if some warning messenger
came to me,
a part of myself, perhaps,
that sees the road ahead
beyond where my headlights
lighten the dark,
the terror of the blind
being a kind of sight.