To Dream

"To sleep, perchance to dream..."
But I desire not the heady
flights of fancy in my unconsciousness.

When a nightmare strikes me,
I want it to be conscious.
My sentience quivering in fear
as adrenaline clutches at my
rapidly thumping heart
pulling it into the dank,
murderous arched alleyway
of my throat.
Nightmares stalk the Earth during day,
and to feel them,
to know them,
one can fight them.
Laying prone and peaceful
none should fear.

And my dreams.
The colourful butterfly wishes
of love.
They are useless when at rest.
I want to feel the wellspring of joy
burst forth from my dilated,
glassy eyes.
I want ever kind thought
and idealistic hope to warm
the cold, depressing body of reality.
I want to be aware of the flight
of my soul through the pages
of imagined fantasy.
To dream in day is to change the world.
To lay prone and peaceful,
one can change nothing.

And so, to sleep, perchance not to dream.
But to rest in the peaceful arms
of existential emptiness.
To swim static in the abyssal sea of naught.
As my mind feasts gluttonously on the rest
and prepares itself
to feel, to fear, to love, to hope.
To ensure my body is ready
to fight the vicious, cruel nightmares
and instigating idealistic, rainbow dreams.