I Don't Dream, I Drown

I close my eyes. I'm drowning.

I open them to the dark.

Drenched in sweat, with quickened breath, heart pounding in my chest.

But the ocean of my dream calls to me.

I close my eyes so I can feel.

I'm underwater once again.

But the familiar sense of helplessness feels like home.

This is where I live.

I'm always drowning, am I not?

Awake, asleep, there's no difference.

The lines of reality blurred like dark rocks wettened by unrelenting waves.

The dark water below tugs at my heart.

I must wake now, or I never will.

A shimmer of light from the surface stirs me from sleep and the darkening night.

It's still dark, but not like before.