What Dreams May Come

What Dreams May Come

I wake up in a film noir bedroom—
streetlamp shadows on my ceiling.

I dreamt not of being chased
but of chasing, of attacking—
of taking primitive pleasure
from the feel of a face
under my fist, the taste
of someone else’s blood
on my knuckles,
the satisfying slish of a knife
penetrating a plump belly,
the recoil of a rifle
against my shoulder
and the head of a stranger
in my sights exploding.

I stumble to the bathroom,
flip the light,
splash water on my face
in the dirty mirror,
hair estranged,
stubble like tombstones,
I look guilty as hell
and wonder out of which circle
that nightmare slouched.


Happy Halloween!

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17 Responses to What Dreams May Come

  1. JeanMarie says:

    This revision is even better than the version I saw. Really well done. I’m sure I will sleep well tonight!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Lisa Tomey says:

    Stubble like tombstones… Like that!

    Liked by 1 person

  3. jupitergrant says:

    Ooooh! Deliciously macabre, with an ominous hint of Jeckyll and Hyde about it. Love it!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Wonderfully gruesome!

    Liked by 1 person

  5. Kitten Lada says:

    I’ve got goosebumps! 😈

    Liked by 1 person

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