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It was during my second sleep
when he appeared
that time of night after wakefulness.
Corpse-like, covered in open sores,
he professed I was the source of
his current state of unhappiness.

He said to me:
"You are responsible for my current distress."
His hollowed eyes were darting swallows,
his broken body's nerves and synapses, a-quiver.
I couldn't believe he'd come to visit me
in this state of continual duress.
I knew nothing I could say would free him,
no shining words of mine could
bring him happiness.

And yet,
I opened my mouth selfishly to say:
"But, how could I be responsible?..."
His response: "You always were, you always are."
His open wounds did a curious thing then,
they began to open their sore mouths and
started talking.
They were speaking to me in the way
reality (in dreams) sometimes seem bizarre.
I put my fingers to my ears,
but his screams jangled my nerves ajar.

"Leave meeeee beeeee!"
And then
he put his shriveled arm out to shield himself,
to keep me from peering anymore,
when suddenly
gravity pulled me far away
and I thought I heard the violent slamming of
a heavy door.

And I found myself staring down a long hallway
at this man I thought I once knew
so ruined by his current state of decay...
its then I got my perspective
and saw what he'd muttered might be true
and that I may have made him this way.

Sometimes we think we've loved someone, that is
until we leave them suddenly high and dry.
We're onto the other ships of life
we don't look back to see old lovers cry.
All that's left of them, might be a rotting shell...

The shell remains as evidence,
a dark light to focus on the reasons why
love can be fickle and unkind
and when love's over and unwinds broken
it leaves a stench,
the disenchantment of the original spell.

And then I knew I was quivering too.
I had to insert my conscience into the dream
to tap myself awake.
I realized I hadn't known how completely the damage
of an old love affair had wrecked
his discarded human heart
and that he had put every part
of himself
at the stake.

Copyright November 18, 2012 All Rights Reserved By this Author
Melissa A Howells /Meloo from her Tilt-a-World   11:54pm PST

I have written this and rewritten this. Trying to keep true to the
original structure of the dream. I have remembered a few points since
I've had time to reflect, the scream was added as I remembered it later on.
I do think dreams are messages.  Ben was a smoker. The open wounds
could very well have represented a kind of cancer literally as well.
Or this could be a prophecy of things to come...

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