recurring dream

I've had this nightmare over and over again.

I'm floating about in the deepest, darkest depths of space. It is space because in the distance I see the twinkling of the stars as though I was watching from my balcony itself. I'm feeling this sense of desperation. I think, apparently, I've been abandoned by my space crew. God know's what the fuck I was doing on a space mission anyway.

All of a sudden, the blackness fades away and gallons and gallons of yellow take its place. I know, out of sheer intuition, that I'm in a Mary Poppins painting and I'm terribly happy. However, I'm rushed into a field of daffodils where Mr. Daffodil himself is singing to me. However, Wordsworth does not take on the faded portrait look I've seen a million times. Instead, it's the frighteningly vivid face of my late father. My heart pounds itself into my stomach with such a force that I'm back in space again.

But it's not space, definitely not. I float and I plod along. I hear a familiar noise amplified a million times. The giver of life, suddenly seems to take it away. Loud and disturbingly efficient I view my heart, so large and hideous, beating out life into me. It stops and I wither away.

It really was a nightmare. However, the recurrence of it turned it into a dream. It used to elicit screams, insomnia and once even urination from me and the details stayed with me for days after. I used to lie in bed, almost paralyzed, trying to make sense of it. However, over the years, the vividity has been dulled and I can't remember it that well anymore. So here it is, immortalized and slightly compromised with a touch, just a wee touch, of refinement. After all, it just a dream, right? Right?