Nicole Johnson

I tossed and turned and the visions become more vivid.
At times they became harder and harder to decipher what was real and what was make-believe.
My heart beat raced as my eyes flung open with current dismal.
I was falling deeper and deeper into a fixation that only my mind could trace.
What of this dream that’s somehow inside of another fantasy, one of which my eyes have cast to play tricks on me?
My mind rambled to rehash itself only to come up empty.
Defense mode has set in and every little sound released melancholy tears.
I whispered to myself, but the more the words flowed the crazier I began to sound.
This dream I’ve seen play before me isn’t a dream at all.
It’s a memory.
A memory constantly on repeat so I’ll never forget what happened to me.