Poets' Practice Pad

Thanks again. Comments at the end will explain why I wrote it.

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

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. .