3:26 a.m. - September 08, 2002
Call me Minyades
It is like clockwork to wake up around three some nights worse than others, some nights light and back to sleep but most often it's arise and read or work or clean something but tonight I don't want to do any of that though there are two brown bananas in the refrigerator. It is in these mornings that I feel the worst because I check under the bed but won't open the bathroom door in case there is somebody in there and it is not a something like a ghoul or bogeyman I'm afraid of but a person and I imagine his eyes like a cat looking at me as I swing the door and I will be caught so I avoid looking at the door at all and turn on the lights and wish daylight came sooner than it does at 3:27 a.m. another two hours at least and I will sit on the floor after writing here though why I write I know not because it offers no safety and even less security my faults and fears and general fuckedupness here for you to read. I don't know how to write about my dreams like the one I had tonight and why now after a lull, a respite, catching me unawares to remind me that no, I'm not there yet, I haven't reached whatever place I seek and stupid me to think I could find it in my own bed in my own home. It is more a feeling than an image but I'm walking when around my feet like damp viscous fog hands reach and they are callused and rough and I feel fingernails pressing into my skin as they slide up my calves and at the same time feel his hands around my throat and I can't escape and wonder why there are four hands instead of two and it must be a demon from hell and that is how it feels and then there are bright colors that hurt my eyes behind their lids like being in a strobe kaleidoscope and I can't move my body and my tongue is thick and choking me and it is me being exposed and I smell sweat and roses and why why these roses, I haven't figured that out yet but my stomach aches and I count stars on the ceiling but there is light coming through light tan metal venetian blinds that don't move because the window is shut and nobody can hear me and he laughs and presses me down and my body is heavy and my head is colored and my breath is nothing because I'm not breathing and my heart slows and I'm afraid I will die and that is when I wake up at least that is how it was today and really, how bad is that but bad enough for me to again be scared of the dark and wishing it was light out and how awful how pathetic how silly how small how right now.
