The Truth of Dreams

I woke from the night’s rest, morning light warming sleepy eyes.

I untangled the sheets, sitting up to

approach the bedroom door

when I saw the face appear

deeply etched in the threshold,

alive beneath shadows, it’s mouth opening wide, threatening a painful bite

if I dared turn the knob.

I wielded a can of black paint, carefully scrawling the word “BETRAYED” over the face,

covering the screaming mouth;

not a permanent solution, but one that would hold long enough

to avoid the bitter bite, to turn the doorknob, to let myself out of this room,

to hurry downstairs.

I found another door at the base of the stairs.

Opening it revealed three sardonically happy ladies sitting primly on the furniture;

“Good Morning, Dear!”

I heard as the first woman outstretched her arms

to receive a hearty hug.

I stepped forward to return the expected embrace,

but as I leaned in I saw the superficial grin

widening to show sharp teeth growing

as the other two women sat by silenly, watching

greedily with shining green eyes.

I stepped back quickly enough

to avoid the life-sucking grasp,

I turned sharply and left the room,

leaving the women to themselves.

I found my dogs at my heel while stepping outside,

through another door,

into the fresh air

where I could breathe.

The sound was pure as I exhaled a silent sob.