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The cold wraps around me as I sleep in my bed,
for I fear I have awoken the dead.

They come for me in the dead hours of the night,
wrapping their cold dark hands around me, I fright.

Hatred stirs, flaming passions boil as I wake in a cold sweat.
My mind races with images of rapture and zest.

Nothing can stop it. Nothing can ebb its flow.

I'm helpless against the raging current it resolves to bear me forward on.
I choke, gag, and gargle in the undertow of its animosity.

My throat closes in around itself, my eyes blur and my sight wavers as
I'm drug under the surface to the darkness of the eternal deep.

A light. A single pinpoint on the edge of the horizon.
I push past bubbles and the light shimmers about.

I touch it. A spark! Life! I can escape! It grows into a hole of blank space. I crawl into it.
Resistance. I push back harder, and it collapses outward.

I am on a green field surrounded by trees. Gunfire. I run to a mound of dirt, and glance
back behind me as a beach disappears into mist.

Swirling mist through the trees fogs my vision, and once again I collapse.

Death. Darkness. The blackest blight from which I cannot surface or escape.
The light vanishes forever. It is gone and only my tortured soul remains.

My wretched, abhorrent soul for which nothing is worth.
I gaze upon the face of death, and it is red, redder than the deepest hatred you can imagine.

A hatred for what is inside us all.

The essence of being, of the spirit, of life.

A voice in the darkness leads me down a path straight and narrow, and I arrive.

I finally arrive!

I am at the pearly gates, the bars across where golden pavement lies.
I watch the angels dance among the clouds, and fly forth to dance with them.

I hate no more. I choke no longer. Only joy, gladness, and peace remain.
A peace so deep it can never be disturbed by the turbulence of the enemy.

My pilgrimage is over, and at last I can rest. Rest in peace...

My dream, in which turbulent peace remains.