Kaleidoscope

         I wake up screaming every night and it’s always the same dream. Eyes are widened to look for some light. In the darkness of the night, I grasp for breath while I soak in perspiration. The ghosts in my dreams are not just what they seem. They are not mere dreams. They are pieces of me, of my past.

          The scream and pant are not caused by the unnoticed. They are from the wounds, open wounds that no doctor could ever heal. 

           The torment that these voices give in my dreams is the same misery that scares me when wide awake. These nightmares become a kaleidoscope of my life, the shifting images I could barely recognize but keep rushing through my mind.