Midget
By Rey
42. Nightmares
Sensations, emotions and impressions that feel like echoes from the past haunt my slumber. Phantom touches, sounds, feelings and movements soak me through, familiar and yet so alien.
I am swimming in a thick liquid that does not drown me, that cocoons me comfortably. I am squeezed past a very tight thing, with the accompaniment of somebody howling in utter agony and misery. I am lying on an unforgivingly hard surface, too alone and too dry, flailing uselessly with weak limbs, crying out for a lost sanctuary.
I seek to touch and be touched by another, very similar entity who is always there. I am drenched by immense power that does not seek to crush me, safe and secure and loved. I am nearly flattened as my tiny home is bashed inward, squealing in shock and fright and pain in a voice unheard.
I am cradled in cool darkness, in a snug-but-not-confining room. I am suddenly, harshly exposed to light and dryness that hurt, also openness and lesser chill that scare, unsoothed. I am torn away agonisingly from ties that I cherish with all my little, fragile being, sent adrift in horribly vast emptiness.
I wake up with a shout.