Nighttime lurks a deep dark dungeon of deafening desire. Faces pour black souls writhing toward wanderlust time. The evil alms penetrate the proponents giving prospect. Suddenly still air penetrates a magical mysterious sensation. Tulips trustfully tip toe through passages of lost pureness. A faint light appears a fondling fiend awaits fierce assumptions. Harmony remorse reflects innocence. Trenches widen problematic answers dissipate probity. Suddenly, I awoke dripping in my sweat Drenched I looked around the dark room. The street light through the blinds reflected upon the dresser mirror. What had I just dreamt? "What the hell did that mean," I whispered. Concerned, I pondered the latest in a series of restless nights. These twisted dreams or nightmares appear to have a dark grip on my sleep. My thoughts have become more intrusive of these haunted nightmares and I have grown weary of my recent attempts to sleep.
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