Nightmares
Sensations, emotions and impressions that feel like echoes from the past haunt my slumber. Phantom touches, sounds, feelings and movements soak me through, familiar and yet so alien.
I am swimming in a thick liquid that does not drown me, that cocoons me comfortably. I am squeezed past a very tight thing, with the accompaniment of somebody howling in utter agony and misery. I am lying on an unforgivingly hard surface, too alone and too dry, flailing uselessly with weak limbs, crying out for a lost sanctuary.
I seek to touch and be touched by another, very similar entity who is always there. I am drenched by immense power that does not seek to crush me, safe and secure and loved. I am nearly flattened as my tiny home is bashed inward, squealing in shock and fright and pain in a voice unheard.
I am cradled in cool darkness, in a snug-but-not-confining room. I am suddenly, harshly exposed to light and dryness that hurt, also openness and lesser chill that scare, unsoothed. I am torn away agonisingly from ties that I cherish with all my little, fragile being, sent adrift in horribly vast emptiness.
I wake up with a shout.