Dreams And Nightmares

Dreams are a window to the future, real or surreal - poet. If it was a dream it was like no other, soft, delicate, with silky feathers the angel beckoned me to an enchanting embrace. I was tempted but couldn’t break the shackles of diamonds, gold, silver and all the precious stones put together. They were not just priceless, they were strung with a mystical, gossamer thread. I tried hard but the magical chains were overpowering, The angel came close I could feel the fragrance of heavenly musk her breath redolent with nectar and ambrosia. She bloomed like a lotus, face glowing like a sunflower, something I could never attribute to women of this world. My strength was of no match against the unworldly magic of the chains. Proximity of the angel and her intoxicating body scent was driving me, transporting me to a far-off land unlike any I had seen. My tired eyes gazed at the pink seas and blue sands, woods a pale carmine yellow, the birds of a colour rainbow danced in tune with the music created by the rhythmic frothy, cream-pink waterfall. The sky was of a deep crimson hue as if a gargantuan had been slayed and the tapestry above stained with ungrateful blood. It was both surreal and utterly believable at the same time. My legs were still in shackles, and I was resigned to the fate of an eternal prisoner. I thought of the angel who had come so close to me offering an embrace. What was her motive? Was she offering me the Kiss of death? Am I going to die, dying, or Am I already dead? Amidst the cacophony of the animals and birds, my auditory nerves were transporting faint signals of someone approaching. The sound of the steps muted by the soft sands, the dull sounds were from behind, I turned around. The angel was close, but this time there was no musky fragrance, only earthly smell. She touched, a bolt of lightning hit me and I blacked out. Not sure it was a dream, if I ever wake up I’ll find out.