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And I can't wake up
yet waking enter a dreamlike state that calms me with the flow of mist and I am walking, waiting for a sense of presence as cool curls 'round my ankles, seeps into my bones, and I wake screaming! I shiver with a fear of never waking and wonder whether death will be like fog: the lack of sound, of sight. Worn out I fall asleep again, with pleasant thoughts of sun-drenched days caressing me. Come morning, Mother marvels at how silent I have slept. Toss- ing, turning, yes, but never waking through the night. Kåre Enga catalogue number: [162.415] 30 september 2005 Note: from a prompt:
I guess you could call this a nightmare. I remember as I child dreaming I was awake, realizing I wasn't, terrified that I couldn't, wouldn't ever wake up. One incident may have been linked to a gas leak. Haven't had one of these in awhile. Wonder whether my mother remembers? She's 83 now, mind like a trap.
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