Grasping

Bright light blasts me in the face without kindness.
I try to squint to hinder the agony in my corneas.
Computer screens are bloody bright.
Slumber edges away at my eyes.
I can feel the dust crumbling away.
When I scrap my hand against my eye,
sand tumbles out into my palm.
It feels like my face is falling away.
I scramble to the banks of a sea.
Somehow transported a million miles away from my bed.
This does not feel like a restful dream.
The sea churns with a black light from with in the depths.
I shield my eyes away from the ocean.
Around the thrashing mass of black the ocean turns red.
It's me under the water.
A gnashing set of teeth dragging me down to my watery grave.
The me on land shivers as the me under the waves lets out one last scream.
Bubbles replace my last breath.
This is not a good omen.
I grasp at waking, the alarm has gone off.
This is the first time I am thankful to be woken.

Written September 10, 2011