Unquiet Mind

In that foggy intermediate state between sleep and wake, the dream starts.  No.  Not a dream.

Unease, a tingle at the base of the skull, finds a spot and waits.  The unease creeps along the spine, quick and determined.  When it gathers its strength, it transforms itself into fear.  The fear is a living thing, which detaches itself, now a beast.  The beast has tentacles.  Each dreadful tentacle coils and uncoils, nearly touching, not touching.  It stays just out of the field of vision. Only detectable by a shift in the air.

The heart squeezes, blood races through constricted vessels. Each breath comes in short, shallow gasps. The eyes slam open.  To nothing. Darkness. Solitude.

A gentle breeze sighs through the open window.  The cicadas hum. It’s the only noise.

Except for the pounding of the heart. And the crackle of the unquiet mind.

26 thoughts on “Unquiet Mind

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