Dream

It’s evening time and rain drums against my windowpane and it’s the only sound in the darkness of my bedroom, mingling with my heart beating beat beat beating faster than ever and then a sudden stop though I swore I’d never let fear swallow me and the rain thrums harder against the thin glass and I can feel the floorboards shaking with thunder; perhaps this it what they meant by falling - the fear of the storm is nullified by the fear of the curtain call; a stone dropped in the pit of the stomach at the deafening silence that will surely follow. And I feel myself begin to bloom. The rain screams against the window as the fates throw stones at me shouting “wake up!” And the glass is broken, smashed on sun-bleached wood and melting. My feet hit the floor and my laughter is a piece of thunder as blood drips from the places where I’ve gripped too tight cleaning up the mess. My fingertips grip the rivets in the floorboards and I pull, and pull with all my hearts contempt until my heart is revealed, beating and bloody and wrapped in a blue silk blanket, the same I was wrapped in when I was born. Maybe this is what it means to live; to scream; to break open and bloom; to bleed.