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Not Quite Alone.
#SharedDestinies
I traipse through
A sea of emerald hands
Brushing my ankles
As I pass.
The blades of grass
Are not frantic,
Not clutching
Or grasping.
Instead, their touches
Whisper reverently across my skin
Like I am a most sacred thing.

I am not permitted to feel sacred
Anywhere but in my dreams.

I glance up from my adoring fans
To see a figure walking ahead of me.

Odd.
I'm usually alone in this dream.

I stare at blonde curls escaping
The powder blue bonnet
In front of me.
Our hands are entwined
As they tug me along,
Their laughter tinkling like
A choir of glass bells.

Glancing behind me,
I can only see the arm
Linked through my own.
The fading black line
Tattoo sleeve I spy
Inspires more questions than answers.
This arm is strong,
Steady,
Sure.

I am swept up
Into the gaiety of
My two stranger companions,
Who have begun to feel more like
Family in the brief seconds of
Existence within my dream.

I feel holy.
Revered.
Sacred.

###

I awake in a darkened street;
Nondescript streetlamps
Flicker ominously
As I feel a sense of dread overtake me.
I know with sudden certainty
That I must begin to run.
That I am being chased,
And cannot under any circumstance
Be caught.

Adrenaline pumps through
My veins
As my heart hammers within
My tightening chest.
I weave skillfully through blurring
Streets and alleys,
Distressed at the intensifying feeling
That my efforts are for naught.

My legs tire and ache,
Disobeying my desperate urges
To continue.
I am stopped in my tracks
By a dead end.

I've messed this up again.
I never win.

No matter how hard I...