Boo.

The things that lay under your bed, the things that go bump in the night. The things that make your heart race against the tick-tocks of the clock on the wall, is it excitement? Is it the adrenaline rush? Is it anxiety? Why are my senses at me to run but my legs just won’t budge? 

Is it the danger that pulls me in? I love it when the wind whips against my face as I lean my body towards the edge of the ledge that holds my body in. Fear tickles my synapses as I lean too far out, it keeps me from reaching out too far, trapping me in my reality. 

“Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow —
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away

In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?

All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand —
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep — while I weep!

O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?

Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?” 

“Dream in A Dream” – Edgar Allan Poe

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