Nicole Johnson

Staying up most nights, thinking with my eyes closed,
Trying to find my way back through the maze that leads to the dream tunnel.
Round and round I go, everything looks as if it had before.
Round and round I go until there it was,
Right in front of my eyes.
The dark warp-like space that is was

This is where they go, deep into the subconscious.
I found myself stepping through the dark, black hole, more or less willing
I was sucked in like a vacuum—transported into the realm of the not so living.
Brushing myself against a tree that felt so real it cut me.
Drip, drip, drip went my blood seeping from my scraped elbow.
I even felt the sting.

Holding my hand against my flesh wound I began walking and the smell of iron became ever so present.
They all stared at me like I was some kind of alien, these people.
Watching me and I held myself together and pushed through the crowd of them
Curious eyes meeting mine over and over again
Until  boom!

My face greeted with my pillow
And I felt a little shiver
Turning my head and there it was
You, a figment of my imagination.
Or was it?