When night became day, I woke with a start,
Unnerved by the furious beat of my heart;
For I had dreamed of a terrible sight
While trapped by the darkness and hidden from light.
There was a mirror into which I glanced
And saw a bright flame which flickered and danced
And then disappeared with a hiss and a moan.
Then pain seared my flesh and the scream was my own.
When I awoke, I was glad to have found
That there were no mirrors or fires around,
But that did not comfort me when I saw scars
Running along my inner forearms,
Which appeared to be singed or blackened or charred.
I was given a fear which I could not discard:
I had merely dreamed of the fiery ordeal.
But what if the things in my dreams are all real?