Sea of Dreams
I set sail down a river of thought, unto the sea of dreams. Where opportunity may be sought and found, while bearing the touch of occasional nightmare. Upon my ship, the lights are kindled, and tall and proud, I man the crow's mast. Sea, ships, land. All I know, for the dream is now reality.
With bloody hand I slay my foes. With bloody hand, I take the palms of those who would join my crew. With honour, we sever nightmare, while searching for our dreams. The sea our song, the birds our choir, our ship from which we conduct the music of our reality. Shanties, slurs, and song – in our red blood, nourished by red rum, upon a blue liquid. Searching for shining gold, not unlike the light that comes from above.
At last, we reach an island. Solid ground, upon which to plunder. Tis our world, our dream. Gold under gold – aye, we take it. Nightmares from the sand pop up, only to be slain. Or, as best as the walking dead's lives may be ended. The crew, they rejoice in the slaughter, before their bodies too lie upon the sand. They shall become skeletons of this island, unless the sea claims them first. Already, their blood has joined the water.
So with plunder I return to my ship, to set sail upon the sea of dreams. The sea of my reality.
If I am to be nightmare, then so be it.