deep scars

There are scars we all have that will be with us until the day we die. They're not always visible and more often than not they don't even have a corporeal incarnation (both words are worth quite a bit in Scrabble ... as is quite for that matter because Q is worth a lot all by itself and U is another point heavy feller).

Some nights I don't get to sleep. I close my eyes, lay down as comfortably as I can manage and pray through wet eye-lashes for sleep to take me but for dreams to stay away. And there is something so pathetic about that in my mind. The wish for sleep but the fear of what it may bring is a terrible conflict on many levels. But the subconscious mind is where the deepest scars reside.

The silent mind fills the darkness with images of happiness or terror without a care as to how you will react to it. So we wander into frightening places unable to turn around or to rouse ourselves when things go awry.

Worse yet is where you reach a point that the dreams of things that go bump in the night hold no terror as awful as that of a dream of sunshine and smiles. The dream itself, of course, is wonderful. What is terrible is that feeling when the rousing mind see's through the looking glass and remembers that the euphoria is not real and the reality of the moments is so pale and bleak that the memory of that shining moment leaves your heart cold, freezing your heart to the core.

That terror, that your dreams will give you a momentary flash of happiness only to let it dash as the real world peeks through the clouds of your mind. The shock of the reality being so painful that the fear robs you or respite from the world.

How deep is that scar and will it ever heal?

If I ever have a night where sleep holds no terror, I'll let you know.

Sometimes the origin of those scars rear their heads where you least expect. Like the watered eyes of a young man who carries burdens so much like those you carried in your youth.