I woke from a sleep that was dominated by nightmares; or, at least, I began to wake. I think I did. The images of a sleep’s horror were still a storm in my mind, dark thoughts dissolved in the tears that drenched my closed eyes.
There, waiting, eyes closed, almost too painful to look. Almost to think – almost – that it would be better for the terror to continue than to hope it is near its end and then open your eyes to find it continues and you have failed to shake it off.
But I can sense light, I can.
MW Bewick 